


Quadrille

by fabricdragon



Series: ABO shuffle [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha Sebastian, Alpha Sebastian Moran, Alpha Sherlock, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Beta John Watson, Canon-Typical Violence, Eating Disorders, Fat Shaming, Internalized Homophobia, Kidnapping, Kindness, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mistaken Identity, Non-Consensual Touching, Omega Jim, Omega Mycroft, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Past Drug Use, Past Rape/Non-con, Sebcroft - Freeform, Self-Esteem Issues, Sheriarty - Freeform, Sherlock Holmes and Drug Use, Suit Porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2018-12-09 23:28:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 28,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11679324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabricdragon/pseuds/fabricdragon
Summary: Inspired by a scene in "You are the Perfect Drug" where it is revealed that Omega Jim Moriarty had an idea of kidnapping his "dream Alpha" Sherlock... (you do not need to have read that work to  follow this one.)what if Sherlock WAS an Alpha?what if Jim's suppressants hadn't failed under interrogation (but he had definitely cracked a little more )what if Mycroft was an Omega instead? (and of course no  one knew that)Begins  at the Fall...





	1. Pick A Partner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mickie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickie/gifts).
  * Inspired by [You Are The Perfect Drug](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10357395) by [fabricdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabricdragon/pseuds/fabricdragon). 



_Jim was waiting on the roof, practically vibrating with excitement. Any minute now, Sherlock would be here… and then Sherlock would have to throw himself off the roof… and fake his death… and then no one would be looking for him would they? No one except big brother Mycroft–and, if Jim could, he was going to make him PAY for that stay in his cells…_

_But stealing his brother should do for a start…_

_And he was here, and oh GOD he smelled good: he could barely remember his lines, and it took all his will power not to just throw himself into him and start sniffing! Jim hadn’t taken his suppressant and would be going into Heat within a week–or probably sooner, based on how hyper he felt and how good Alpha, Sherlock, smelled–and then he and his Alpha would be together._

_A pity that Sherlock seemed to have gotten so attached to that blond Beta: it warped his thinking… We were meant to be together._

Jim played his trick and fell “dead” to the roof, and Sherlock plunged to his very public death…

Jim ran down to the morgue: Sebastian would deliver a very messily dead body to the roof, but he had to be there to collect his Alpha…

~

Jim skidded into the morgue. “Hello, Molly darling!” He kissed her cheek and quickly hid in a cupboard.

“Shhh! Jim! Stop fidgeting… I can hear your shoe kicking the door!” Molly whispered at him as she pretended to be busy with paperwork.

“I itch, and I’m hot, and Sherly smelled so GOOD…” Jim whined.

“Honestly, Jim, you shouldn’t have gone off your Heat suppressants until after you got him–you need to calm down.” Molly then had to hush him because Sherlock was brought in.

Molly played her part, grieving but professional, and as quickly as she could shooed everyone out. As soon as they were gone Molly came over and gave Sherlock an injection.

“What?” Sherlock sat up and grabbed her wrist, “Molly? What was that? That wasn’t part of the plan.”

“It’s alright, Sherlock, it’s just a sedative.” Molly smiled and pushed him back down.

“We… Why?” Sherlock looked so delightfully puzzled. “I have to get out of here…” His head fell back onto the stretcher.

“You will, Sherlock, my brother will be getting you out while I manage the body.” She leaned over and kissed him gently, “I’ll see you again once you settle down.”

“Brother? I… don’t…” Sherlock spoke with some difficulty and his eyes kept closing.

“Everything will be fine, you’ll see. I wish you had liked me, but honestly you suit him better.” Molly kept a hand on his pulse and watched him try to open his eyes and fail. She nodded at the cupboard door, already slightly ajar.

Jim came out of hiding and smiled happily at Molly.

“You’re lucky you’re my favorite brother, you know.” Molly shook her head at him.

“I’m your ONLY brother,” Jim grinned. “Tempted to keep him yourself?”

“I had my shot at him,” Molly smirked, “but he’s too high maintenance for me.” She hugged Jim, “You could do better, you know: he’s terribly rude and mean.”

“But I want this one. He’s the one I’ve always wanted.” Jim stroked Sherlock’s hair back. Sherlock tossed his head and moaned, trying to open his eyes; Jim just rolled him out to the waiting van and they were driven away.

They changed vans and Jim sent the driver off to give anyone following a good long tour of London. He put in “La gazza ladra” on CD and drove off to “The Thieving Magpie”.

“You’re much better than the Crown Jewels, darling,” Jim said happily. Sherlock couldn’t hear him of course, but it didn’t matter.

*

Sebastian was unhappy. _I am a sniper, for God’s sakes! But here I am, dragging a body to the roof because, “I don’t trust anyone else to do it, Sebie!”_

_Fucker._

_He knows I’m head over heels in love with him, the crazy bastard, and here I am helping him so he can run off with that other Alpha, Sherlock. I hope he gets bored with him damned fast, because I want dibs on shooting him…_

_Or dropping him off a roof for real._

The sound of the roof door opening caused Sebastian to dive to the other side of what little concealment there was.

“Collect the body immediately,” a tightly controlled and tense sounding voice said. Two men that had “intelligence service” written all over them came over with a body bag and scooped up the fake Jim Moriarty. Sebastian waited quietly: say whatever else you want, but a sniper knew how to hold perfectly still and silent.

The men left but Sebastian hadn’t heard the other man’s footsteps, so he stayed put. Eventually, the other man walked over to where the body had been… It was Mycroft Holmes.

_Mycroft Holmes, the Alpha sonofabitch that tortured Jim–oversaw it, anyway._

Sebastian carefully readied the Alpha sedative. Unlike what Sherlock had gotten–which would have laid anyone flat on their back and out cold for hours–this would render an Alpha drunk, friendly, and pliable: perfect for getting him out of the building on his own two feet, more or less.

He waited until Mycroft was bent over, looking puzzled at the spot where the body had been, and moved.

For a Beta, Mycroft would have been reacting fast; for an Alpha, he was slow, especially compared to Sebastian. Sebastian hit him with the injector as Mycroft was bringing his umbrella up to block. Sebastian jumped back and waited, not wanting to go into hand to hand when he didn’t have to.

Mycroft snarled and stepped toward him, one hand scrabbling for his phone, which he clumsily dropped. “What?” He went to pick it up, thinking already fuzzing, and fell to his knees.

Sebastian smirked and walked over, collecting the phone and the umbrella. He grabbed Mycroft by the arm, “Come on, Iceman… You’re about to be an extra present…”

Mycroft wobbled on his feet and stared at him as though he knew something was wrong, but wasn’t sure what.

Sebastian steered him down the stairs to his car, hoping no one saw them because Mycroft started GIGGLING after a few flights.

“You’re an Alpha… That’s not good…” Mycroft said solemnly, the way people get terribly solemn after a few too many Tequilas.

“Yup.” Sebastian patted him down quickly; removed anything electronic and stuffed it into a blocking bag–Jim insisted there be one in every car; handcuffed his hands behind him; and buckled him into the passenger seat.

The entire time, Mycroft Holmes just kept leaning into him and alternating sort of sniffing him and acting drunk, or shaking his head and making pronouncements: “You’re a sniper; you have a callous on your thumb.”; “You moved the body, but it wasn’t where the real one fell.”; “I’m going to have you all hunted down when I sober up.”

“If you think you are living long enough to sober up–no, you probably are; I hope you are, you bastard.”

After they’d been driving for a while Mycroft asked, “Why don’t you like me? I know why most people don’t like me, but I’ve never met you…”

“You tortured Jim,” Sebastian growled.

“Oh.” Mycroft blinked at him owlishly. After a long pause, “Most people don’t like me because I’m a controlling asshole: that’s what my brother says; I think he’s right. No one likes me, they just put up with me because I’m useful.”

Sebastian did NOT want to feel sorry for him. “That tranquilizer should be marketed as a truth serum. Damn.”

“Yes, yes it should. You smell nice.”

“I… smell nice?”

“Gunpowder, Alpha, and I don’t know what else that is, but it’s nice.” Mycroft’s entire body slid sideways almost into his lap and he lay there limply on Sebastian’s thigh. Sebastian started noticing a certain level of interest…

_Oh, hell no, Jim has NOT messed me up that badly, I am NOT gay…_

He pulled over once they were well clear of the cameras and phoned Jim.

“What’s wrong, Sebie?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Sir: I got you a present.”

“MY present is right here…”

“Mycroft Holmes.”

“What?!”

“I used the sedative you gave me in case we needed to dose Sherlock? He is DRUNK, and… Sir? He’s crying on my leg.”

He could hear Jim breathing into the phone. “That’s weird, usually they get happy drunk.”

Mycroft was snuffling into his leg about how no one wanted him and he was fat.

“NOT a happy drunk, sir.”

“Well… I can’t deal with him NOW, I have to deal with Sherlock. Take him to one of the out of town safe houses and keep him until I’m done.” Jim’s voice returned to its usual menace, “I want him in good shape, Sebastian. Ooooh! If nothing else he’s an extra leash on Sherlock–definitely keep him in good shape!”

“Yes, Sir, I’ll be at Rowan House.”

“Good choice. I’ll be offline until my Heat’s over with.”

“Yes, Sir,” Sebastian said grumpily. He wanted Jim so badly he could almost smell him.

*

Molly handled the tragedy of Sherlock’s death–and his autopsy, of course–as they had arranged. She was a bit worried when Jim’s body was sent elsewhere, but Jim had undoubtedly planned for it.

_Damn selfish bastard, Sherlock, waltzing in and suddenly loving her up so he could get what he wanted out of her–again. Jim was mad to want him–well, Jim was mad anyway–but he was the only family she had left. If her brother wanted an arrogant Alpha detective? Well… she could understand that. He had let Molly have a try for him first and just look where that went._

_Jim could have him._

*

Anthea expected Mycroft Holmes to be back in the office within two hours. He’d apparently been concerned that Moriarty might try some kind of trick, and the body was being delivered to MI5’s forensics lab instead of St. Barts. When Mycroft wasn’t back on schedule, she assumed it was a problem with Sherlock’s “death” and that he would handle it and be back in the morning.

Because of that, no one reported Mycroft missing until he was late to work the next day.

*

John Watson saw Sherlock plummet to his death, and collapsed: another person he’d been unable to save. Greg Lestrade narrowly kept him from being sectioned, and fed him tranquilizers and put him to bed.

The press hounded him and he could scarcely leave the flat without someone trying to stick a microphone in his face or a camera.

After Greg barely managed to keep him out of jail on an assault charge, he was convinced to go out of town for a few days, “Just until it settles down”.

*

Sebastian arrived with Mycroft at the safe house they called Rowan House.

By the time they got there, Sebastian’s head was spinning. Mycroft had kept up an intermittent commentary–in between snuffling and crying into Sebastian and commenting on how he smelled nice–about how no one liked him, he had no friends, he was fat, his brother hated him, his parents thought he was weird, and everyone wanted to use him for his brain, but no one tried to be friends with him unless it was an assassination attempt. _I’m a sniper! I’m not supposed to get this close to a target; I feel SORRY for him!_

He took him, staggering and swaying, through to the secure room: the one in the basement with the tiny barred window and the restraint points. Mycroft didn’t argue, or even look surprised; he just staggered over to the loop on the wall and waited.

“You… uh… You’ve done this before?” Sebastian wanted to hate this man so much, but he just looked resigned.

“Oh yes, back when I had to do field work.” He said sadly, “One good thing came of it: they starved me down to a good weight.” He looked at Sebastian and smiled weakly, “It feels like I’ll be able to sleep, at least. Thank you for not hitting me.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ!” Sebastian sighed, turned him around, and led him back upstairs.

“What?” By this point, Sebastian had to half carry him.

Sebastian took him into the main bedroom–it had a wrought iron bed, as opposed to the other rooms–un-cuffed him, and started stripping him out of the suit. Mycroft struggled ineffectually and then just went limp.

“Unlike you, and YOUR people, I’m not made of ice and I’m not a monster. Jim may be able to torture people with a smile, but I can’t do it.”

Mycroft didn’t respond, and Sebastian was pretty sure he was unconscious–finally.

Sebastian made sure there was NOTHING useful in the room, and cuffed his hands to the head board. Then he staggered off to the second bedroom to get some sleep.


	2. An Unexpected Partner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft and Sebastian

Mycroft woke up feeling as though he’d been beaten. For just a moment, he was back in the cells from so long ago: hot, hungry, beaten… _No, I’m in a bed: a rather comfortable bed. Reassess_.

 _I am handcuffed to a wrought-iron bedframe: simple but effective. I feel sick and feverish and beaten: drug aftereffects._ Mycroft opened a book on his mental shelf and tried to look at the memories: disjointed and hallucinatory– _drugs_.

He lay quietly, putting what he could of his memories together. _The evidence on the roof had been all wrong; someone had left a fake body, so Moriarty was alive. Then one of Moriarty’s people had gotten him with an injector, and…_ Mycroft’s eyes widened and he hissed despite himself. _Whatever that was had caused him to babble at his captor in an alarming fashion._

…

_I did not cry on him… did I?_

…

_There was a cell: why wasn’t I in it?_

…

Eventually, the door opened and an incredibly good-looking, muscular man entered. _Imprecise! Inefficient! He may be good looking, but dammit THINK! Military; yes, a sniper; not inclined to cruelty, thankfully; loyal to a fault; works for Moriarty._

“Are you going to keep sniffling on me?” the man asked suspiciously.

“That was entirely your own fault!” Mycroft snapped.

“Oh good, the monster’s back; I was starting to actually feel sorry for you.”

Mycroft narrowed his eyes, “I feel like I’ve been beaten soundly, which does, in fact, make me rather less than sociable. Why you would expect anything else from your prisoner I have no idea, but it hardly makes me a monster.”

“Yeah? Well good. Given how often you beat Jim, I’m glad,” the man snarled.

“So why isn’t he here to gloat?” _Because that was the real question…_

“He’s busy; you were an unexpected capture.” His jailor set down a plate of breakfast. Mycroft felt his stomach turn and started to be ill; he managed to hang his head off the side of the bed at least.

“What the hell?”

Gasping and trying to clear his mouth and throat from the acid, he said, “Whatever drugs you used… I said I feel sick.”

Mycroft suddenly found his head being held up and a water bottle held to his lips; he drank from it gratefully.

“You… You feel really warm…” His jailor almost reeled and fell onto the bed.

“Could we have been exposed to a biologic agent? Chemicals?” Mycroft was trying to think but was being distracted by the incredibly nice smelling Alpha next to him… _Oh, no… Not that, anything but that…_

“Colonel?” Mycroft made a stab at his rank; he responded, “How do you know that?”

“If your oaths to Britain still hold in the slightest degree–cut my throat.”

“What?”

“You said I was an ‘unexpected’ capture… Did Moriarty order this?”

“No. I used the tranquilizer I had in case things went wrong with Sherlock.” He was sitting up shaking his head and trying to clear it. “Why?”

“I cannot allow my information to fall into his hands–it would destroy the country–and, since I was an unexpected capture, you are out nothing.”

“You have some serious mental health issues, did you know that?”

“Yes, actually, I am well aware,” Mycroft said tiredly. “But if you don’t kill me soon, then either you–or Moriarty, when he arrives–will find a way to overcome your distaste of me enough to–”

“Look, that tranquilizer was supposed to be harmless but I think you have a really strange reaction to it... Unfortunately, Moriarty won’t be here for at least a week.”

“What did you say?”

“He won’t be here for at least a week. Damn bastard stuck me with the babysitting job while he’s off on his honeymoon.”

Mycroft shook his head vigorously, “I must be truly ill, that makes no sense.”

Sebastian pulled him up to the headboard and into a sitting position. “Here,” he said and started feeding him breakfast.

“I would have thought you would avoid me, but I suppose if Moriarty isn’t available…” Mycroft sighed as he once again threatened to sink into the arms of this very attractive and nice smelling Alpha… “Is my information worth that much to you? Are you certain Moriarty won’t simply kill you as well once he gets what he wants?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about. As far as what Moriarty wants, I was ordered to keep you in good shape as a leash on your brother.”

Mycroft froze. “Sherlock died–that was what Moriarty wanted, after all.”

The man snorted, “Sherlock ended up alive and well and unconscious, and last I heard Jim was taking him off to a very secure playroom–lucky bastard.”

“What are you talking about?” _Moriarty knew he was alive? Kidnapped?!_

“Jim has been obsessed with him for years. He finally decided to pick him up, since he couldn’t persuade him to run off with him voluntarily.”

“You said honeymoon… but Sherlock is an ALPHA!”

Sebastian chuckled, “And Jim Moriarty is a spectacularly aggressive Omega. I just hope that when he finally gets tired of Sherlock–”

“An OMEGA?!”

Sebastian shook his head suddenly, “Shit, what’s wrong with me that I’m telling you that?!”

“An Omega… And we never… I never…” Mycroft sat blinking, “Assuming he doesn’t kill me too quickly, I wonder if he would mind comparing notes on suppressants…” He sighed, “Not that I’ll be permitted to use them.”

“Look, I’m going to check the furnace; I’m beginning to wonder if there’s a carbon monoxide leak.”

“No… You just used an Alpha tranquilizer with hormones on me.”

“Yeah, so?”

“I’m not an Alpha.”

Sebastian blinked at him. “You? You’re a Beta? But your brother is an Alpha…”

“My brother is an Alpha, yes; I’m an Omega,” Mycroft said tiredly. “And the hormones in that Alpha tranquilizer are sending me into Heat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE do tell me if you notice a tag that i should add. sadly i am horrible at tagging.


	3. A Captive Audience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim Moriarty and Sherlock Holmes

Jim hadn’t had a Heat in so long that he’d forgotten how unpleasant the lead-up was: he felt like his skin was too sensitive, and everything was just a bit too loud and too fast.

Sherlock was lying nude in his bed, with the heavy duty collar and chain his only accessory… _He really was a lovely creature._ It wouldn’t matter if he wasn’t, because Jim was mostly interested in him for his mind, but he had to admit the package was attractive _._ Jim shivered as a wave of want and lust overwhelmed him. _My Heat was probably going to be sooner than I’d planned._

~

Sherlock woke up and pieces of information settled into place: _nude, collar, bed, Molly had drugged him–why? Someone else in the room._ He opened his eyes and the very last person he expected to see smiled down at him.

“Hello, Sherlock,” Jim smiled down from the side of the bed

“You… are dead.” _He was most emphatically alive, if only dressed in his underwear._

“So are you, technically.” Jim sat down on the bed and ran a hand over his chest. “You’re slim for an Alpha, you know?”

Sherlock’s hand snapped out and grabbed Jim’s wrist. “And you’re short for one–so?”

“Ow! Sherly…” then he stopped, stared at him, and started giggling. “I’m not an Alpha…” He smiled and looked at him with that flirtatious look that always made Sherlock go a bit weak. “You thought I was? Really?!”

Sherlock frowned– _He was telling the truth_ –and relaxed his grip on Jim’s wrist. “Yes… You’re far too clever and fearless; I assumed you were.”

Jim smiled that too-broad-for-his-face smile, “Oh… Oh my…” He leaned down and wrapped his fingers into Sherlock’s hair and looked into his eyes from inches away. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.”

“However you like. Chaining me nude to a bed? Hardly sporting. What’s your game this time?”

“Everything is a game… The key to your collar is in a time-lock safe which can’t be opened for a week.”

Sherlock looked around thoughtfully at the food, the sink, the bottled drinks, the toilet… _This was a self-contained flat, all within reach of his chain: he wouldn’t starve…_ “What’s the point?”

“Guess.”

“If you were anyone else, I would assume some sort of sexual component.”

“I hate being ordinary, but this time you’re correct.” Jim leaned down and kissed him gently on the lips.

“I hate to disappoint you, but… I’m not interested in you that way–or anyone, really. Much as I enjoy talking to you, I don’t–”

“You thought I was an Alpha: is that why you wouldn’t leave that silly Beta doctor for me?”

“That has nothing to do with it,” Sherlock huffed. He was currently being annoyed that a portion of his transport was responding as it usually did to Jim’s proximity.

“You…” Jim was chewing on his lower lip, “You are… capable, I trust? Otherwise, this could get awkward.” He glanced at Sherlock’s crotch.

“I assure you, being chained to a bed is ‘awkward’!” Sherlock snapped. “Regardless of my capabilities.”

“If you don’t like me that way…” Jim reached down and Sherlock’s mind promptly stopped functioning properly as he tried to strangle back a moan.

When he could get his wits back he said, as calmly as he could, “Chemicals and reflexes–unimportant.”

“Oh, Sherly…” Jim grinned wickedly and stripped off his boxers and shirt. “I assure you they may be AGGRAVATNG as fuck all, but they are certainly not unimportant.”

Jim was muscled nicely under a layer of padding that admirably disguised his lethality. Sherlock shrugged, “As I said: what’s the point?”

“You have a little over one week,” Jim said, moving to sit in a chair near the bed. “At the end of that time, win or lose, I’ll unlock your collar and you can walk away, if you want to.” He smiled, “I’ll win almost no matter what.”

“And if I killed you? I prefer to outwit you, but if you really aren’t an Alpha I’m much stronger and somewhat faster than you are.”

“Then you still have to wait for my dear darling Sebie to wonder why he hasn’t heard from me and show up. He’s my best sniper, and so terribly loyal… just… not you.”

 _Which would mean I would die, and so would most of my friends: lovely._ “So how do I convince you to override the time lock?”

“You don’t, and to be truthful you have less than twenty four hours to do it.”

“What happens then?” _Bombs? Snipers?_

“Judging from the way my body is reacting? By then Sherlock, I’ll be so deep in Heat I wouldn’t remember how. I’m not an Alpha; I’m not a Beta, either: I’m an Omega.”


	4. Shall We Dance?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trading perspectives....

Sebastian stared in disbelief at Mycroft Holmes…

“You…” He took several steps backwards. “…are an OMEGA?!”

“Unfortunately.”

“Oh, Holy Hell, that’s why I’m going fuzzy?”

He just arched an eyebrow and looked at him as if he was an idiot, “You are an Alpha, so yes, I consider it likely.”

 _Shit, shit, shit…_ “I am NOT dealing with this.”

“As I stated, you can resolve this quite quickly by cutting my throat, or shooting me if you are so inclined.” Mycroft was trying to work out the details of what the man had said but it was already getting difficult to stay on topic. “What on earth would Moriarty want with Sherlock if he’s an Omega? That makes no sense…”

“What? He’s betting that going into Heat will melt some of that ice you both have for souls.” Sebastian shook his head again. “Hormones… right.” He suddenly unlocked the cuffs and pinned Mycroft to the bed.

Mycroft tried to struggle, but he was already fighting the instincts to submit to such an obviously fit Alpha… and besides, his combat training had been years ago. Much to his shock, the Alpha hauled him OFF the bed and started dragging him through the house, arms twisted behind him.

“What?”

“I am a lot of things, but a rapist is NOT one of them,” Sebastian growled.

When he found himself shoved into the basement cell again, Mycroft had a moment’s hope–or fear–that he was going to be shot here, where it was easier to clean up; instead, Sebastian closed and locked the door…

And left.

*

After Moriarty’s pronouncement of his Omega status, he’d simply walked out and closed the door. Sherlock was in too much shock to even try to stop him.

It took only a few seconds for his stunned brain to begin to calculate the problem, and then Sherlock began trying in earnest to escape–he got exactly nowhere. Jim Moriarty may not have BEEN an Alpha, but he unquestionably knew how to contain one.

Sherlock eventually collapsed back onto the bed. From what Jim had said, in less than a day he would be rather far gone in Heat, and, as an un-bonded Alpha, Sherlock would eventually succumb to the hormones and go into a Rut. He could only hope that Mycroft noticed he was missing quickly enough and found him.

*

Mycroft huddled on the cot in the cell. Intellectually, of course, it was preferable that the Alpha didn’t Bond him–it meant he had a chance to escape; emotionally, he wasn’t coping well. Mycroft tried giving himself his usual lecture– _I was never going to be a desirable Omega; I certainly didn’t look or act the part in any case; now pull yourself together and THINK_ –but, apparently, going into Heat was reducing his emotional armor to nearly zero.

His suppressants normally kept him from going fully into Heat–he hadn’t had one in decades–but he did get more emotional and melancholy every three months or so when his hormones peaked. _This was going to HURT._

~

Sebastian stayed outside the house, taking in as much non-hormone laden air as he could. _Right… I am stuck babysitting the secret head of the British government who was going into Heat and about to reduce me to a brainless Alpha in Rut… No way._

He drove off to do some serious shopping.

*

Sherlock tried yelling; after a very long time, he tried pleading.

No answer.

He eventually ate some of the meal bars and drank water and tried to get some sleep.

~

Jim worked as long as he could, but eventually the document simply stopped making sense. _Sigh._ He put the laptop away and made himself a quick dinner. _Probably the last real meal I’ll have for a while. I hate being in Heat, HATE it._

He couldn’t even work up the energy to throw anything. _This better be worth it._

*

_Alpha didn’t come back. It got dark on the other side of the window, and Alpha didn’t come back…_

_He was easily into the onset of Heat, the injection… He wouldn’t starve in… How long was a Heat?... He’d just get thin; that was alright… He’d gotten thin after being captured… It was better, he was too fat… There was water, he would be alright._

_Alpha… might like him if he was thinner?_

_Probably not._

~

After a while, Sebastian had to admit to himself that he was stalling.

He put on the filter mask before he went back in–it wasn’t designed for serious problems, but he could only hope activated charcoal would blunt the worst of it–and set up the exhaust fans. He carefully set up a fan at the door of the cell–pointed in–and opened the door intending to throw in the supplies and run.

Mycroft was lying on the bed shivering and whimpering. “Alpha?” he sniffled.

“Uh… I have blankets and food…”

“I’m sorry… I know you don’t like me…” His voice sounded like Mycroft Holmes if you could possibly picture a contrite and miserable Mycroft Holmes.

Sebastian shoved the packages of food and blankets in and closed the door. _There was NOT enough booze for this._ He went upstairs to the secondary bedroom–the one that probably didn’t have Omega pheromones all over the bed–and tried to sleep.

*

Jim woke up alone, whimpering. _Fuck… Fuuuuuck… Gotta find a toy… Something…_ He staggered around trying to understand where he was…

_Other room? Yes, there was something… in the other room…._

He stood pawing at himself, trying to figure out the door. Eventually, he managed to turn the knob and pull–much more difficult when one hand was trying to work into his slicked hole.

Jim’s eyes went wide… _There was an Alpha… Wait… I know this Alpha? Nice Alpha? Nicer than the old Alpha?_ Jim crept up nervously. _Alphas are scary…_

“Alpha?” He tugged on the sheet. “Alpha?” he whined needily.

~

Sherlock woke up with a start at the sound of a whine and a small voice calling “Alpha?”

His first thought was that it was a child, somehow. He looked over and saw Jim, crouched down on the floor next to the bed with the biggest eyes he’d ever seen tugging on his sheet.

“Jim?” Sherlock frowned, “What are you DOING?”

Jim shrieked and cowered. “Sorry! Sorry! Small! Don’t… Sorry….” and trailed off into whimpers.

Sherlock swung his legs out of bed and sat up in utter confusion. “What are you–” Then the smell hit him, and he grabbed the bed to keep from falling over: _Slick, Heat, un-bonded Omega…._

Jim, very quietly, in a small voice entirely unlike anything Sherlock had EVER imagined coming out of the man, said, “Alpha? Please? Hurts…”

“What hurts?” Sherlock asked him very shakily, trying to keep himself calm.

Jim turned and showed him his ass, dripping with slick, desperate fingers already in up to his knuckles. “Fuck me… Please? Need…”

Sherlock stared in dumbfounded shock as the most brilliant man he knew–that he wasn’t related to–crouched whimpering on the floor, apparently unable to manage complete sentences.

*

Mycroft quietly finished unlocking the door. It had been hard with just the plastic tags and the bits of fork, but he’d managed. _He would go and grovel at the Alpha and maybe the Alpha would stop being angry._

_Maybe._

He took apart the door hinges and hid the parts before he crept quietly upstairs.

_Alpha wasn’t in the bedroom with the bed bars…_

He finally found him in another room…

~

Sebastian woke up to the soft scuff of a foot in the doorway. He rolled out of bed and came up with a gun before the intoxicating smell of Omega hit his nose–Sebastian growled in the back of his throat and clenched his jaw.

“I’m sorry… Please don’t be angry at me…”

“Holmes?” _Shit, did he get a weapon?_ Sebastian snapped on the lights only to see a nude Mycroft Holmes on his knees in the doorway looking very guilty.

“How the HELL did you get out?”

“I’m sorry.”

“HOW?”

Mycroft ducked his head to the carpet. “I’m smart,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I can be quiet and you can pretend I’m stupid… You can pretend I’m not ugly…”

Sebastian stared in stunned shock before finally managing to say the first thing that came to mind, “Go back to your cell!”

Mycroft whined quietly, got up, wringing and fidgeting his hands like Sherlock often did, and turned and crept out.


	5. Two Forward and One Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two VERY different Omegas in Heat...

Sherlock wanted desperately to believe this was a trick, but couldn’t even remotely figure out why or how.

“Jim?”

Jim whined again and presented himself. Sherlock took a deep breath to try to steady himself and then realized the Omega pheromones were probably not making that any help at all.

“Jim, can you get the collar off?” Sherlock forced himself to stay calm, despite the fact that he was intensely hard and his transport was in open rebellion.

“Collar?”

Sherlock tugged at the collar and chain. “Off?”

The utterly blank look on Jim’s face was unnerving. After a moment’s pause, Jim crawled up on the bed– _Flinching, afraid? He wants sex, but he’s afraid of me_ –and started tugging on the chain in a puzzled fashion. After a moment, he gave up and lowered his head and started sucking Sherlock off.

The rational part of Sherlock’s mind wanted to hurl him out the door; unfortunately, his body had a completely different idea.

_Jim… was very good at this…_

After an eternity, Sherlock realized that Jim had stopped and was turned around on the bed, presenting himself and whimpering desperately. Sherlock woozily realized that if he actually mounted Jim, he would lose what little mind he had left.

_THINK, dammit! It felt like trying to think through a heroin high–no, worse than that. Jim couldn’t possibly override a time lock–Hell, I probably couldn’t right now. Something simpler, then…_

“Saw…” Sherlock managed to push Jim off the bed; he landed with a cry. “SAW, Jim, do you understand?” He made a sawing motion.

Jim cowered and nodded.

“Go get a saw.”

Jim didn’t move, just cowered.

Sherlock sighed and used as much of the Alpha voice and presence as he could manage at the moment, “FETCH… SAW… NOW!”

Jim scrambled out of the room.

Sherlock staggered to the sink and ran the water, splashing his face, and eventually scooping handfuls of water over himself: it helped a little.

~

 _Alpha was angry. Alpha wanted saw. Fetch saw…?_ Jim got out something that seemed right…

_Oh God, that’s not a saw, that’s a bread knife… Wait, why did Sherlock want a saw? That’s… not… good…_

_Saw, Alpha wanted… this was wrong._

Jim tried to force himself to think through the need and pain… _An image of… something? Saw?_ He managed to open a door and dragged a strange object out.

_Yeah, there’s a saw in there… somewhere… Why does Alpha want a saw?_

_SAW! In… bag? Alpha would be pleased._

Jim dragged the heavy object back to his Alpha and dropped it at the side of the bed.

~

Jim came staggering back into the room carrying a tool bag. He dropped it in exactly the manner of a pleased dog retrieving a pheasant and looked up hopefully at Sherlock.

“Err… Good? Yes, Good… Thank you, Jim.” Sherlock had never wanted to get away from someone more in his life. It was worse than Anderson–he, after all, couldn’t help it; he was just an idiot all the time–seeing his brilliant antagonist like this….

Jim WHINED at him and Sherlock stumbled and fell, breathing heavily.

Jim whined and presented himself again. Sherlock rather desperately grabbed the first object out of the bag and shoved it into Jim’s hands. “Here…”

Jim looked utterly confused at the hammer, as though he’d never seen one. He looked up at Sherlock with a hopeful face–and he looked like he was a CHILD with that expression, which fortunately helped to blunt the hormonal effects–“Fuck?”

Sherlock took the hammer to the sink and hurriedly washed it off, and then handed it back to a confused Jim as he rather desperately started sawing at the chain. “Jim… Toy? Fuck yourself?”

Jim looked crestfallen.

“Please?” _Because, dear God, if he touched me again I was going to lose all possible control._

Jim looked marveling at the word “Please” and started to use the hammer as a sex toy–which was all kinds of wrong–and Sherlock began even more fervently sawing at the chain, alternating with yanking on it frantically.

Eventually the chain broke and Sherlock went flipping backwards over into the floor, breathing heavily and confused.

_I… had to cut the chain… to get to the Omega?_

Sherlock looked at a delighted and childlike Jim who started crawling across the floor at him.

_Jim smirking at him at the pool._

_Jim sending fascinating puzzles and clever clues._

_Jim shooting himself on the roof, and the horrible feeling of loss…_

_Molly… Molly betrayed him…_

Jim reached up and patted at him, “Alpha?”

Sherlock looked at him, really looked: he had no defenses right now. _He’d been abused, badly, by at least one Alpha before–that’s why the chain and the kidnapping and the fear..._

_I’m the victim here, but, right NOW, so was Jim…_

Sherlock forced himself to his feet and bolted out the door, slamming it behind him and throwing the extra bolt before staggering to find the shower. He ran it cold, then hot, then cold again until his teeth chattered uncontrollably…

And then he passed out on the tile floor.

*

Sebastian slowly got out of bed. _How the HELL had Mycroft gotten out of the basement?_

He went down the stairs slowly; he had his gun but he really didn’t think it was needed. When he got to the basement, the door was sitting up against the wall, with no sign of the hinge pins. The air motion and the fans were keeping the scent to a minimum but Sebastian still had to grit his teeth against the urge to find the Omega and fuck it senseless.

And then he stopped having to think about it at all as he heard very soft snuffling noises. He knew those sounds: you heard them in Basic Training when tough boys didn’t want anyone knowing how homesick they were; when SAS men that wouldn’t bat an eyelash over gutting a man had the unit dog get hit; when soldiers were home and in convalescence and found out that the war wouldn’t stay behind them–Mycroft was crying quietly into his pillow. Sebastian stepped in quietly. None of the food was touched, just the blankets and some of the supplies…

Mycroft sat up and wiped his face. “I went back to my cell, Alpha, I’m sorry.”

“How did you… How did you open the door?”

“Picked the lock,” Mycroft said, looking down.

“And the hinges?”

Mycroft sighed sadly and admitted, “Hid them. I’m sorry, Alpha; I didn’t want to be in a cell again, I get frightened.”

Sebastian just couldn’t keep it up: hating the man in this condition was just impossible. “Yeah, it’s okay, I hate cell doors too.”

Mycroft looked up at him: his eyes were as clear and as intelligent as ever, but the expression on his face was just sad and open–he looked like he was a lot younger. “You were in a cell?”

“Yeah. When were you? You said… You said they didn’t feed you?”

“Back when I did field work.” Mycroft nodded slowly and looked unhappy, “It was bad.” He tried to look happy and failed utterly, “I was thin, after, though.”

Sebastian looked at the meal bars and other food he’d shoved in. “You… didn’t eat anything?”

Mycroft just made a face.

“Uh… Don’t… most Omegas…” Sebastian tried to find a polite way to say this and eventually gave up, “Aren’t you horny? I got you a toy…” He pointed at the only “Alpha” dildo he’d been able to find.

Mycroft shrugged, “Yes. You don’t want me: no one does. My father tried to find me a mate, but no one wanted me: too smart, too fat, too tall, and too ugly.”

“Oh, sweet…” Sebastian took a deep breath and regretted it. “You are NOT too smart! Smart is sexy as hell–look at Jim!”

“What about him?”

“I’d be his mate in a heartbeat… He just doesn’t want me.”

Mycroft frowned, “Why not?”

“Not smart enough for him, probably.” Sebastian sighed and sat down against the door frame.

“You’re not stupid,” Mycroft shrugged–and, now that he was watching, he could see Mycroft squirming faintly–“you’re not us, but you’re not stupid.” He looked at him with a sad expression, “And you’re good looking, and healthy, and strong… and a Colonel: a sniper. You’re even taller than me, a little.”

“Heh. Well, thank you, even if you won’t think so once you sober up.”

“Yes, I will–I just won’t say it.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “You… certainly don’t sound like…” he struggled for something to say only to have Mycroft say it instead.

“Like I’m in Heat? I’ve only been in Heat fully twice before I went on suppressants, but I was too collected, too intelligent–it’s why no one wanted me, I suppose.” He was staring off at a wall, his body twisting slightly against the bed. “I feel very odd though, and I know I wouldn’t admit any of this normally. I’d pretend not to care when you yelled at me… Well, when my hormone levels peak on the suppressants, I get… like this, only not as much.”

“You’ve only been in Heat twice?” Sebastian stared at him. _At his age? That couldn’t be healthy._

“Mmm-hmmm… You smell better than most Alphas. The last Alpha that smelled nice tried to kill me but he didn’t smell as nice as you do–I wonder if it’s the Heat…?”

“Probably: you smell utterly fuckable– Crap, I’m sorry.”

“I do?” Mycroft actually lit up, looking delighted. “Would you?”

“Still not a rapist–in fact, I should leave the area.”

“But I want you to?”

“You… are not in condition to consent, and given that you asked me to cut your throat–”

“You should, really,” Mycroft nodded. “The information I have… even just what I’m supposed to have…” Mycroft whimpered and looked with supreme disgust at the Alpha dildo package. “If… If… It’s all people want from me.”

“Believe me, I have no interest in any of your information.” Sebastian smiled faintly, “I think you overestimate how valuable your information is.”

“No, no I don’t.” Eyes like lasers raked over him and then he started talking, “You were in a cell; you’re a sniper; you’re the right age; and you resemble your father–you’re Sebastian Moran, and you vanished from a military prison after you were captured…” Mycroft was talking faster and faster, as though once he had started he couldn’t stop. “We had to disavow all knowledge of your team. No one was even certain you’d survived capture, any of you, until you vanished…”

Sebastian had ended up on his feet, back against a wall in shock without any idea of how he’d gotten there. “You… You knew about our operation?!”

“I saw a report once, and I see you–that’s all I need.” Mycroft kept talking rapidly, “Moriarty must have gotten you out, with his contacts in the East, in the illicit sale of military hardware: he could get you out where we didn’t dare try. You were going to be a diplomatic trade someday–”

“I would have been dead in another week if Jim hadn’t gotten me out.” Sebastian’s eyes were wide and he felt panicked. _This was JUST like Jim–so far beyond him, it was obscene._

“He’s mad, you know,” Mycroft said, just panting slightly as he rocked back and forth. “If he’s an Omega–”

“He is.”

“He’ll force my brother, then. He’s mad–obsessed.”

“I think that was the idea, yeah.” Sebastian felt his heart pounding and he wanted to run because this was in no way natural but _Oh God, the brilliance…_ He felt himself take several steps forward without being able to stop.

“I thought you didn’t want me?” Mycroft sounded perplexed suddenly.

Sebastian bit into his lip and curled his nails into his palm–hard–and forced himself to step backward, shakily. “I’m going to shower and make some food. I’ll bring you something, you’re too thin–” And he turned and bolted.

Mycroft stared after him, mouth open in shock. _I’m too THIN? Alpha… Alpha wanted to feed me? Provide for me?_

Mycroft tried to recite the mantra that had been his comfort and his armor for too many years– _Caring is not an advantage_ –but he knew it was too late, had been too late when the man took him to sleep in a comfortable bed instead of a cell, and tried to lock him in a cell to avoid forcing himself on him.


	6. Turnabout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> who is the prisoner again?

Sherlock got up shakily and forced himself to think. Even if he WANTED to fuck Jim into the mattress–and a good part of him did–Jim’s mind was most of the genuine attraction.

_Alright, that delicious scent and a surprising skill at oral sex were a plus, but really…_

Anyway, if he did take advantage of the situation right now he had no doubt that once Jim came back to himself neither of them would be able to deal with each other.

Sherlock found his clothes, as well as some other clothing in his size, neatly put away in a room that smelled just a bit too much of Jim–and had a set of car keys in a small bowl, thankfully–and found a signal blocking bag with his phone and other things in it. He paused to send a quick text to Mycroft that he was alright and dealing with an unexpected complication, and walked out.

He drove back to the flat and carefully climbed in the bedroom window. _No sign of John, good._ He got into his medical kit and retrieved the Alpha suppressants he used on cases: the same ones any Alpha in law enforcement had to have to deal with traumatized Omegas–he silently thanked Mycroft for arranging to get him some. He took the pill, knowing it would take time to have an effect, and made sure the inhalant was still current–damn shame he didn’t have the injectable form, but he’d never needed it.

He spent a short bit of time picking the lock on his collar–Jim had gotten a very good lock–and then he got into his stored gear. He got out a full medical kit, the gas mask and chemical hazard suit, and a box of chemical proof gloves, then snuck back out.

On the way back to the house, he stopped to pick up supplies for an Omega from one of the “adult emporium” shops. Most of the people buying an Alpha dildo were probably not Omegas, given the low percentage of the population…

Sherlock found himself wondering about percentages… the studies were really quite questionable since there was no central reporting database….

“Can I help you sir?”

Sherlock blinked and realized he must have been standing at the display for a while. “No, thank you, buying a present and trying to decide.”

The sales clerk rolled their eyes a bit and muttered, “Asking for a friend, right.”

Sherlock hurriedly bought one, as well as a very secure set of restraints, and left. It wasn’t until he was unpacking in the house that he realized he had purchased one that fairly closely replicated his size. Well… He never said he wasn’t interested. He supposed he was fucking Jim by proxy.

He inhaled the suppressant and got into the hazmat gear. Picking up the dildo, the medical kit, and the restraints, he let himself into the locked room.

Jim had damaged himself trying to claw his way out the door, and probably from using a hammer as a sex toy. Sherlock felt badly about that, but he certainly hadn’t set this situation up. He rather simply picked up the frantic Omega–it was hard to think of him as Jim at all–and restrained him while he treated his injuries. He took the tools out of the room and then came back in and unlocked him except for an ankle cuff.

“Jim?”

Jim whined and presented himself desperately. Sherlock sighed and got out the dildo; after realizing that Jim simply would NOT move from the submitted posture, he reluctantly fucked him with it.

Jim made what can only be called desperately pleased noises. Sherlock wanted to feel ashamed or embarrassed–or better yet, nothing at all–but he had to admit that seeing a rather realistic looking Alpha dick vanishing into Jim…

With far more effort than should be needed, given the suppressants and protective gear, Sherlock managed to walk out and re-secure the door. He walked straight into the shower and decontaminated the outside of the suit and mask, then he got out of the gear, threw out the outer gloves, and collapsed into a chair.

He wished he could use one of the Omega Heat blockers, but not knowing Jim’s medical history they were far too risky–he would just have to wait it out.

He checked his phone and frowned: no answer from Mycroft. _Oh, of course…_ Jim had planned to kidnap him, so he would have made plans to keep Mycroft’s office VERY busy to keep him from noticing when he didn’t check in. _Damn it._ Sherlock had to admit that his track record of skipping check-ins was going to help Jim’s plans… and he probably had counted on it. Well… this was Jim’s house–or one of them–he must have books: it was a chance to look into Jim’s private life and make deductions…

Sherlock happily started investigating the house.

*

Sebastian took another cold shower. _Damn… Mycroft was severely messed up. Who knew that much insecurity was hiding behind all that?_ Sebastian started making some food and sighed. _Jim… Jim was going to torture him. I really should kill him quickly, it would be kinder. Maybe if everything worked out well with Sherlock, Jim would be in a better mood? Of course, if things DIDN’T go well, he would be in a worse mood…_

Sebastian shrugged and took a plate full of food downstairs–he could at least get some decent food first. Sure enough, Mycroft was still in the cell and the dildo was still in its packaging.

“I brought you food.”

Mycroft looked up from rocking back and forth with an intense pinched look on his face and his expression cleared. “Do… You really don’t think I’m fat?”

“No, I don’t think you’re fat,” Sebastian grumbled, “and besides which, Omegas are meant to have extra padding, it’s just the way they are. You’re really thin for an Omega: I don’t think it’s healthy, especially since you’re thin because someone starved you.”

“My brother thinks I’m fat.”

“Your brother is an asshole.”

Mycroft blinked a few times and shrugged, “We both are.”

Sebastian almost dropped the plate laughing. He finally managed to put it down in front of the fan and slide it forward. “Eat.”

“Would… Would you feed me?”

“That’s a really bad idea.”

Mycroft hung his head and whined, which made Sebastian feel really horrible.

“Look, I’m an Alpha, you’re in Heat, I really shouldn’t even be this close, but I was afraid you weren’t going to eat at all.”

“I’ll eat if you want me to.” Mycroft’s voice was very small and pathetic. “I stayed in my cell because you told me to, Alpha.”

“I know… That… That was good…” _And damned if Mycroft didn’t brighten up like anything._ “Doesn’t anyone ever… say anything nice to you?”

“No,” Mycroft looked puzzled, “why would they?” He slowly crawled over to the plate and poked at it with the plastic fork. Then he looked up with a sad, hopeful look. “Jim… Jim will be with Sherlock?”

“That’s the idea…”

“Then he’ll be Bonded, so you’re single…”

Sebastian frowned, “I’m single now, but you really wouldn’t like it when you came out of Heat if I did anything.”

“Do I sound like I don’t know what I like?”

Sebastian had to admit he sounded pretty damned coherent. “You sound pretty coherent for being in Heat, yes, but I work for Jim and you won’t–”

“Jim Moriarty will either be dead, or Bonded to my brother, in which case he’s out of the equation…” Mycroft put his hands down on the floor and knelt back. “So why not fuck me… if smart is sexy and I’m not too fat?”

Sebastian groaned, “Well, you have the preoccupation with SEX for being in Heat.”

“I have that a lot of the time: I just ignore it,” he said rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Wait… Why would Jim be dead?”

“If Sherlock gets loose I don’t know what he’ll do, but if Jim kills him I’ll have to kill Jim–”

“Woah, wait…” Sebastian frowned, “Jim went to a lot of trouble to kidnap Sherlock, why would he kill him?”

“It seems likely. Have you ever seen Jim in Heat?”

“No, I don’t think he’s had one in a while.”

“Do you know how hurt and miserable I’m going to be that you saw me like this?”

“Pretty bad, I would expect,” Sebastian admitted.

“What do you think HE’S going to be like, when he realizes Sherlock saw him like this? Or even worse, since I don’t behave like a proper Omega in Heat.”

“Errr…” Sebastian couldn’t imagine Jim being anything but Jim. “I kind of pictured him drawing a knife and demanding Sherlock fuck him or else…”

Mycroft laughed, still rocking back and forth on his heels, “That’s rare. More likely he does what most Omegas do and goes stupid–stupider than I am right now–and sex crazed. Assuming he does, do you think anyone who sees him like that is going to live?”

Sebastian froze. Jim murdered people for seeing him at anything but the way he wanted to be seen–hell, Sebastian was one of the few people who ever saw him in pain–and showing–it who was still alive. “If… he acted like a porn video Omega… I think he’d kill anyone who saw him like that–anyone who knew who he was, anyway.”

Mycroft just nodded.

Sebastian eventually got up and went back upstairs, trying to think.

~

Mycroft ate the food once Sebastian was gone, and waited until he was sure he was gone off the stairs, before he carefully switched the fan to blow the other way–blowing Omega pheromones up into the house.

Sherlock was in danger, and he had to rescue him… but he had time. _Jim might not even be in Heat yet, and if he was? Well, he was harmless until he came out of it. Figure four days? That’s a good minimum._ Mycroft hated being this stupid, it felt like thinking through sludge. He had to find his phone, and see if Sherlock had contacted him…

If he hadn’t he would have to rescue him and THEN fuck the Alpha.

If Sherlock had escaped then he could fuck the Alpha and then worry about it.

He curled his lip at the dildo and started using his fingers in front of the fan intake.


	7. Amague

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amague — (from amagar - to make a threatening motion) a feint: An amague is used as an embellishment either led or done on one’s own, and may be used before taking a step (Tango terminology)

 

Mycroft heard the steps on the stairs and turned the fan to blow in quickly. By the time Sebastian came in with a plate of food he was back to his usual spot rocking back and forth.

“I... uh… brought you lunch?”

“Thank you Alpha,” Mycroft kept his head down, trying to look like a proper submissive Omega.

Sebastian sat there quietly on the stairs and watched him eat. “Why do you think you’re ugly?”

Mycroft startled badly but tried to answer, “Because I am?”

“You’re not ugly.”

“I’m not…? I don’t look like an Omega.”

Sebastian looked puzzled, “No, you don’t look like a typical Omega– I never imagined one as tall as you are, certainly–but that doesn’t make you ugly.”

“It’s not what people want.  My brother looks more like an Omega than I do.”

Sebastian looked struck by that, “Huh… maybe a bit.” He shook his head, “Anyway you are NOT ugly, and you are definitely not fat–but there’s nothing wrong with a bit of padding– and smart is awesome.”

Mycroft sighed, “But you don’t want me either.”

“Yeah, I kinda do.” Sebastian sighed, and Mycroft looked up hopefully, “but it would be wrong– you wouldn’t be happy about it when you came out of Heat, and… I’m already…”

Mycroft looked at the posture and how sad he looked and he was carrying his gun again…“You… Oh! You’re going to kill me?” _He didn’t want Jim to hurt me, so he was going to kill me: that would be good if I hadn’t already gotten loose– besides I want this one; it would be a shame to have to kill him…_

“You… I’d ask how you know, but never mind.” Sebastian looked sad and started to get out his gun, “At least this way it will be quick.”

“Thank you, Alpha, can I ask a favor?”

“Uh… sure?” The poor Alpha looked so very confused– and a bit happy for an excuse not to shoot him.

“If… If it won’t matter… can I have ice cream?”

Sebastian blinked at him a lot. “Uh, sure… I have some upstairs…”

“Salted caramel?” Mycroft asked hopefully. _The odds that he had that in a safehouse were minimal in the extreme, unless he had purchased some on his shopping trip, and he didn’t seem the sort to buy that flavor– he was inclined to a plainer ice cream, probably vanilla_. Mycroft kept an innocent hopeful look on his face.

“Uh, no, just vanilla…”

Mycroft started sniffling softly, “oh… I thought… if it didn’t matter…”

“I’ll… I’ll go get you some.” Sebastian said immediately– _very relieved to have an excuse not to shoot him yet, and wanting to feed his Omega_ – it took an effort of what little will Mycroft had to keep the triumphant smirk down to a happy dopey smile.

Sebastian went upstairs and Mycroft waited for a while before he crept up and back into the house.  A quick search found his belongings in a blocker bag and he checked his phone.

Grin. _Sherlock had already gotten loose_. He dialed Sherlock’s phone.

~

Sherlock’s phone rang from Mycroft’s private number and he answered immediately– _it had taken him long enough!_ “Mycroft? Things went very badly; our plans have to change immediately.”

“Oh I would imagine, Sherlock,” he could hear Mycroft smirking into the phone. “Jim being an Omega is nothing we could have anticipated after all, although it certainly makes more sense of some of his behavior.  I want to compare notes on his suppressants later.”

There was stunned silence on the phone as Sherlock stared into it– _how the HELL had Mycroft deduced THAT!_ –and then Mycroft giggled.

“Mycroft? Are you… alright?”

“Better! I found an Alpha!” Mycroft sounded younger and more open than he ever did… _oh… oh no, someone drugged him._

“You never wanted one.” Sherlock said firmly, trying to figure out who he could call.

“Yes I did, they just don’t want me.” Mycroft snorted, “I found one and he thinks being smart is sexy, not scary,” he paused, “or maybe sexy AND scary.”

“Mycroft,” Sherlock’s voice softened, “He… he probably just wants you for the information– how did he get past the suppressants, you sound like you’re going into Heat… just tell me where you are and I’ll–”

“I’m already in Heat and I don’t know where I am; one of Moriarty’s safe houses, called Rowan House.” Mycroft answered calmly, “and it was an accident, he had Alpha sedatives with hormones to get you off the roof if he had to.”

Sherlock inhaled sharply, “Wait… one of JIM’S men?”

“Sebastian Moran, son of Lord Augustus Moran, we should have a file somewhere– anyway probably one of the few people who knows Jim is an Omega.” Mycroft paused, “he kidnapped me when I unexpectedly came to the roof to get Jim’s body.  Anyway, he’s a very NICE Alpha and I sent him out for ice cream so I could get my phone.”

Sherlock fell into a chair and groaned. “Are you armed? Can you find out where you are?”

There was a series of beeping noises and then Mycroft told him the GPS coordinates.

“Mycroft… the very LAST thing you want is to be bonded to– wait, how did you send an Alpha away from you for ice cream?”

Sherlock heard noises like Mycroft was opening and closing drawers. “Oh... I told you he was nice. He can’t stand the idea that Jim will hurt me so he was going to kill me quickly like I asked– I sent him out for ice cream as a sort of last request.”

Sherlock took several deep breaths, “Mycroft,” he tried desperately to keep his voice calm and level, “You do NOT want that Alpha; you want to get away from him before you get hurt.” then he realized that Mycroft was loose in the house and manipulating someone who was already used to listening to Jim… _oh God…never mind Mycroft, that poor ALPHA!_

“Of course I want that one, I know what I want.” Mycroft snorted, “So have you bonded Jim yet?”

“NO! and I won’t even consider it when he’s in this state! Besides, he tried to rape me– which is exactly what you are thinking of doing to that poor Alpha!”

“I didn’t kidnap him, he kidnapped me!”

“Mycroft! Would you be happy with Jim forcing me to mate him? Would you?”

“Well… noooo, not… really…” Mycroft sounded dubious, “Although you might both settle down. You ARE going to bond him, aren’t you? I know you wanted him but we both thought he was an Alpha or a Beta.”

“I have no idea. I need to talk to him and right now he can’t talk.”

“I thought he probably went that way.” Mycroft sounded… sympathetic? _Dear God…_

“Not at all like you, Myc.” Sherlock said sadly, “It’s how I got loose, but it’s…” he shuddered, “it’s awful.”

“I have to go, the car got back.” Mycroft said, “I’ll… try not to hurt the Alpha; I like him.”

“Well, remember this: if you want him to still like you later? Forcing him into a Bond isn’t the way to do it.”

~

Sebastian felt a lot clearer headed from the drive to get the ice cream.  _God this was a mess.  He really should shoot Mycroft before Jim got to him… but Jim…wanted a leash on Sherlock… so maybe Jim wouldn’t hurt him?_

The house felt a bit stuffy even with all the fans running, so he turned the main exhaust fan up– he must not have had it on high before. He put away a few things, poured himself a glass of juice from the pitcher in the fridge and took a bowl of ice cream down to Mycroft.

“Hey… I found your flavor…”

“Thank you Alpha,” Mycroft said solemnly.

 _I don’t even know how I’m going to shoot him…_ Sebastian put the ice cream bowl on the other side of the fan and sat down where he’d been before.  Mycroft put a spoonful into his mouth and looked like he was going to orgasm from the taste. _God this was sad, why wasn’t anyone ever nice to this poor guy? No wonder he was such a bastard at work…_

“Are you so mean at work because no one is ever nice to you?” _oh geez I don’t believe I just blurted that out._ He took another big gulp of his drink.

Mycroft shook his head. “Sherlock and I both have trouble getting along with people.  People are stupid, and boring.”

Sebastian stared at him, “GOD, you sound just like Jim.”

“Do you LIKE Jim? You said you would have him if you could…”

“I don’t know… you’re right, I think he’d kill me if I saw him being…” Sebastian couldn’t help it, he smirked, made air quotes and mimicked Jim’s voice a bit, “Ordinary.”

Mycroft laughed. “I like you. You’ll be a good Alpha.”

“Why? Because I brought you ice cream?”

“Because you were nice when you didn’t have to be: you let me sleep on a real bed and you didn’t hurt me, even when you didn’t like me.” Mycroft licked the ice cream off the spoon in a fashion that REALLY shouldn’t have been quite so hot looking, but it was. “If I promise not to hurt Jim would you stay?”

Sebastian couldn’t help but laugh, “I... uh... don’t think you would get your hands on him again even if… even if you ever left here.”

“If my brother bonds him I could. Sherlock would have Jim and only the fact that my brother would be upset–”

“Wouldn’t you mean Jim has Sherlock?”

Mycroft shook his head, “have you MET my brother? No, of course not… I think if they Bond the smart thing to do would be to throw them both in maximum security, but,” he shrugged, “he’s my brother, I let him get away with too much.” He looked at him very sharply, “You’re an Alpha… do you think it’s true that Alphas settle down when they bond?  They say Omegas do, but they say lots of stupid things about Omegas.”

Sebastian thought about it. “I don’t know about Omegas– because the only Omegas I really talked to are you and Jim and you two sure aren’t typical– but the other Alphas I know? Yeah, they settled a lot.  For that matter I feel a lot calmer around you, I mean other than wanting sex.” In fact he felt remarkably calm.

Mycroft looked like he might purr. “We could have sex, really!”

Sebastian was having some difficulties remembering why that wasn’t a good idea, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t.

“If Jim and Sherlock BOTH settle? Do you think it could keep them from blowing up England too much?” Mycroft asked thoughtfully.

Sebastian rested his head on the stair railing, he almost imagined he could smell Mycroft, but the fan was blowing away from him… “I don’t know…”

Mycroft came over and rested his head on Sebastian’s leg. Sebastian found himself idly petting through Mycroft’s hair…

He fell asleep.

 


	8. Abrazo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abrazo — The embrace; a hug; or dance position. Tango terminology

Sherlock wanted to tear his hair out. Jim was in heat and being a typical Omega, and his brother was in heat and being… Mycroft.

He glared in the direction of the locked room, _both of them were JUST alike, no respect for anyone else’s right to run their own life…_ The realization hit him suddenly: _they WERE alike that way… How did I fall in love with someone that much like my brother?_

After a moments pause: _I am in love with him– oh hell Mycroft was right; John was right._

He took another hit of suppressant and hoped the pills were starting to work.  After a few minutes he went back in and tended to Jim’s needs– his actual needs, not the needs he was convinced he had– and ran back into the shower.

He was hiding in the furthest room in the house when Mycroft called him back.

“Sherlock? Can you talk?”

“Yes… are you alright?”

A somewhat sullen sounding Mycroft said, “I drugged the Alpha… but you said I shouldn’t just… but I WANT him!”

 _He sounded like a child– well like Mycroft as a child– it was strange and kind of sweet._ Sherlock smiled faintly. “He’s really nice?”

“Yes.”

“Then you want him to choose you, not just… end up with you.”

“You sound like Mummy.” And Mycroft sounded like he was an unhappy child.

“Yes, well… I suppose it’s my turn; usually you do.” Sherlock sighed, “Have you called your office yet?”

“OH! No…”

“See? You aren’t thinking clearly.”

“I KNOW I’m not! My head is full of sludge.”

“Myc… do you remember you got me the Alpha suppressants?”

“Yes…?”

“Call your office, tell them you’re alright, and get him some Alpha suppressants… and isn’t there an injection to take you out of Heat?”

“I don’t want it, I just want my Alpha.”

“At least let him sober up enough to find out if he’s REALLY nice or not?”

There was a long silence on the line. “You don’t sound like Mummy; you sound like me.” Mycroft said in an accusing tone.

“Annoying as fuck, isn’t it.” Sherlock laughed.

“Yes.” Mycroft snorted, “Do you want me to send some of the instant Heat suppressant to you? for Jim?”

“Do you think he can take it?”

“Give me the address and I’ll send the kit. It’s all written up. You’ll see.”

Sherlock gave him the address and Mycroft hung up.

*

Sebastian woke up with one wrist cuffed to the bed and the familiar feeling of having been given a shot.

“Jim! Sir?! Not funny!”

“Jim handcuffs you to the bed?” said a confused voice… _wait… Mycroft?_

“Mycroft?” Sebastian very slowly sat up… he was in the main bedroom handcuffed to the bed by one wrist, and he felt– actually he felt remarkably clear headed.

Mycroft was sitting backward on a chair in the doorway with a fan blowing at him, he looked… sullen, that was the only word for it. It was also really odd to see Mycroft sitting backward on a chair– somehow seeing him on the floor in a cell looked more believable.

“Mycroft? Are… are you alright?” he tried to keep his voice gentle.

Mycroft’s expression relaxed into a much happier face, “I TOLD him you were a nice Alpha!”

“How did I get here? Why are you… told WHO?” _Not one bit of this made sense._

Mycroft held up familiar military injector.

“That… that’s military Alpha suppressant!” _what in the ever living hell was he doing with that? Wait… I’m clear headed… really clear headed…_ “You… gave me Alpha suppressant?”

Mycroft sighed, “Yes, my brother said he didn’t like Jim trying to force HIM and so I should talk to you.” then Mycroft grumbled, “He’s an arse, but I guess he’s right.”

“Where… did you get that?  You spoke to Sherlock? How?  Wait… why did I …you DRUGGED me?”

“Well, yes, obviously.” Mycroft looked puzzled at him– Sebastian noticed he was rocking back and forth on the chair– “I wasn’t going to let you shoot me, not when you should be my Alpha: you didn’t really want to shoot me anyway.”

“No…I didn’t…  You… knocked me out of rut, but you’re still in heat… and,” he shook his head, “Sherlock?”

“He sent me a text, so I called him.  He got loose already so… “Mycroft shrugged. “He’s giving Jim the injection to bring him out of Heat so they can talk,” Mycroft sighed and put his head on the chair back. “HE’S a proper Omega, poor thing; he gets stupid and doesn’t talk.”

Sebastian lay back against the bars– uncomfortable as hell, really– and tried to put this together.

“Sherlock… got away from Jim?”

“He got loose anyway.”

“And you two were talking on the phone?”

Mycroft nodded.

“And you called someone and got that delivered?”

Mycroft nodded in a pleased fashion.

“So… why aren’t I in one of your cells being tortured?”

Mycroft went right back to looking sullen. “Don’t want to.” He glared at Sebastian, “You’re a nice alpha, and you were nice to me, and you don’t mind that I’m smart even in heat!”

“I’m kind of confused by it, but no I don’t mind–”

Mycroft jumped up happily, knocking the chair and the fan over. “So Sherlock will yell at Jim and they’ll eventually end up fucking, because THAT’S obvious… so I sobered you up and now will you fuck me?”

Sebastian realized he was never, ever, as long as he lived going to understand how any of these people thought. “Why am I handcuffed to the bed?”

“You might have been mad when you woke up.” Mycroft said very matter of factly.

Sebastian closed his eyes and counted backwards from twenty. “WHY does all this sound so damned reasonable?”

“It IS reasonable.”

“You… Mycroft, I work for Jim…”

“Worked.” Mycroft nodded, “Depending on what we have to do to keep them from being shot or arrested, maybe you can still.”

Sebastian suddenly choked as he pictured those two working together. “Oh dear God it IS going to be the two of them, isn’t it?” _What an utterly terrifying idea._

“Uh huh.” Mycroft sighed, “It’s going to be awful.”

Sebastian thought about it. “You never hurt Jim again, ever.”

Mycroft chewed on his lip. “If he causes problems…”

“You either send Sherlock after him, or me.”

Sigh. “Alright… I guess.”

“Are you going to kill me when you sober up? Not that I can do anything about it at this point; I guess I just want to know.”

“I don’t think so,” he looked thoughtful, “My brother might; Anthea might.”

“Who’s Anthea?”

“My assistant. She’s sort of scarily efficient,” he said happily, “and smart! She told me she would shoot me rather than babysit my brother again.”

Sebastian started laughing, “And that’s smart?”

“Yeah, honestly if she talked to the security people and told them why she shot me they’d probably let her get away with it as long as she didn’t kill me.” He wrinkled his nose in an utterly adorable fashion, “My brother has a real talent for aggravating people, and no one likes me anyway.”

“You… you shouldn’t put yourself down that much.”

Mycroft shrugged.

“I like you,” Sebastian shrugged, “I hate what you did to Jim, and I don’t think I can cope with that, but you’re smart, and an awful lot of people seem to have put you down so they could control you, so–”

Mycroft stared at him in shock. “What did you say?” he whispered.

“That a lot of people have put you down to control you?”

Mycroft leaned into the wall. “You think… you think… maybe that’s why?” he started crying, “Maybe I’m not that awful?”

“Oh geez…” this was going to tear his heart out. “Come here, I won’t be able to do much of anything for hours after that shot, but… if I’m not trying to stay away from you I can at least hug you.”

Mycroft came over and rather unexpectedly unlocked his wrist, and then curled into bed next to him sniffling.

Sebastian wrapped an arm around him– freckles; he had freckles on his shoulders– and sighed.

_When did my life get this weird?_


	9. Sharp Siding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Jim begin to come to terms with their truths...
> 
> Sharp Siding: Two dancers face, then change places using one double step passing left shoulders, keeping eye contact the whole time. Repeat to go back to place, passing right shoulders.  
> from English Country Dance terms

Jim felt utterly miserable and puked over the side of the bed–again. _Whatever I did, I am never doing it again_. He must have said it out loud because someone answered him.

“Good,” said a familiar baritone voice. “If you actually learn better, maybe some of this will have been worth it–but I doubt it.”

 _Sherlock? He sounded annoyed… Right… I’d let myself go into Heat… Oh GOD, I forgot how much of an idiot I turn into_. His thoughts were interrupted by trying to empty his already empty stomach, again.

“I’ll go get the anti-nausea meds.” Sherlock sighed and walked out.

_Wait… How could Sherlock walk out? It can’t have been a week…?_

Eventually, Sherlock came back. “I’d apologize for the indignity but I think this hardly counts,” and he was shoving a finger in Jim’s rather tender, and still somewhat swollen, ass.

Jim tried to make a smart remark, but he mostly hung his head over the bed and gurgled.

“THAT was an anti-emetic suppository, so you should be feeling a bit better soon. Once you can hold anything down, I’ll get you some broth.” Sherlock sighed and petted his back. “A shower first, I think. I’d be a lot less sympathetic, but this looks a hell of a lot like coming down off of drugs.”

“What hit me?” he finally managed to get out.

“An injection to knock you out of Heat. You apparently get the nausea side effects.”

 _Yeah, I do. The problem is, there absolutely was NOT any such injection in the house, so for Sherlock to have given him one meant he must have gotten OUT of the house, which meant he was about to be arrested and dragged off to Mycroft’s cells again_. He tried to bolt, only to end up being saved from face-planting by Sherlock.

“One, in your current condition, you have as much chance of escape as a soggy kitten; two, your ankle is locked to my former neck chain.”

“So Mycroft wants to wait until I won’t puke on his damn shoes?” Jim tried to growl menacingly but he didn’t think it sounded very menacing.

He managed to look up at Sherlock–fully dressed, if a bit casually–who was looking puzzled at him. “Did you lose memory from before? Do you remember waking me up and talking to me?”

“Right now I mostly remember trying to puke up my stomach lining, but yes I remember you waking up: why?”

Sherlock frowned. “Shower first.”

Jim wanted to argue but a shower sounded absolutely delicious right now, so he just grumbled.

Sherlock undressed, and raised an eyebrow at Jim’s reaction. “You stripped me and chained me nude on the bed; I don’t pretend you haven’t seen it all.”

Jim tried to sort out his memories while Sherlock rather brusquely took him through a shower. What little he managed to come up with was horrible enough that he absolutely couldn’t look Sherlock in the eyes. _I am never, ever, allowing myself to go into Heat again, ever_. What he couldn’t figure out was what happened after Sherlock somehow got him to drag in the saw… He’d come BACK with an Alpha dildo, and… _Oh dear God._ Jim tried to pull the shreds of his dignity back together.

“I’d try to have a discussion with you without an ankle cuff, but I don’t trust you,” Sherlock said locking his ankle to the wall chain again.

“Fair enough,” Jim sighed. “Is poor Sebastian still alive or have they dragged him off to the cells? He’s not going to last very long…”

“Poor… Sebastian? Oh, the Alpha who kidnapped Mycroft?”

“Obviously.”

Sherlock was frowning more. “What is the last thing you heard from him?”

“That he’d unexpectedly kidnapped Mycroft? I told him to hold him as a leash on your good behavior,” Jim grumbled, “even though we’d BOTH rather gut him. Why?”

Sherlock was slowly beginning to get a darkly amused look–admittedly, it looked good on him, but it seemed out of place. “What?” Jim tried to figure it out and got nothing. “The malevolent smirk looks good on you Shirly, but I don’t get it.”

“Oh… well… You see, Sebastian used an Alpha tranquilizer on Mycroft to get him off the roof, apparently.”

“So?”

“So the more time I’ve had to think about it the more I have realized that you two must hate each other so much because you are too damn much alike.”

Jim lost it. “I am NOTHING like that frost covered excuse–”

Sherlock waited through the litany of curses with a raised eyebrow. “You forgot a few.”

“I ran out of air!”

“Ah, speaking of which, broth and some lemonade or ginger ale.” Sherlock got up and walked out.

_Great. This room was designed to hold Sherlock and it would probably hold me. Damn!_

All he could do was try to pull himself back together and figure out what was going on with Mycroft, because Sherlock obviously thought he was missing some information. _Of course I was: I’d had my brain turned to mush._

Sherlock came back in with a cup of light soup and a– _plastic, damn it_ –cup of drink. Jim rather reluctantly ate it.

“This is terrible.”

“Yes, Mycroft has often complained about my complete lack of cooking ability.”

“How did you mess up re-heating soup!”

“Talent,” Sherlock said drily, but he was watching Jim with an eerie amusement.

Jim glared at him and waited; eventually Sherlock took away the dishes and sat down on a chair. “As I said, Sebastian used an Alpha tranquilizer intended for me on Mycroft–the problem is that Mycroft isn’t an Alpha.”

Jim boggled at him, “He’s NOT? But he’s such a–”

“Arrogant, controlling bastard? Overbearing, manipulative–”

“Fine, so we agree we’re talking about the same Mycroft,” Jim snorted. “He’s a Beta? I never would have guessed.”

“No. He’s an Omega, like you,” Sherlock said and watched the expressions racing across Jim’s face: from certainty this was a joke, to stunned reassessment, to the moment when he realized…

“Sebastian said he was acting oddly…” Jim whispered.

“Because injecting an Omega with that–”

“Would send them into Heat.”

“It did.” Sherlock sighed, “My brother has had three Heats in his life that I know of before this one: twice when he was young and our parents had hopes of finding him an Alpha, and once when he was taken prisoner, abused, and his suppressants ran out.”

Jim shuddered violently and paled; he actually started swaying and clutched at the bed. Sherlock rather belatedly diagnosed PTSD and moved to the bed. Sherlock pulled the badly abused blanket around Jim and waited.

“You’re safe, I’m here, you’re in one of your safe houses…”

Jim was frozen rigid for a while and then eventually curled into him and further into the blanket–quietly, shivering, not making a sound. Eventually he straightened up and tried to pretend that hadn’t happened.

“You… will still be having hormonal reactions, of course.” Sherlock cleared his throat and tried to pretend Jim wasn’t still clutching the blanket like a lifeline.

“Obviously,” Jim snapped. “So Sebie sent Mycroft into Heat by accident.”

Sherlock continued more gently, “Sebastian wasn’t expecting that, of course.”

Jim’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, “Sebie Bonded MYCROFT?!”

“Possibly? Once Mycroft got loose and called me–”

“What?”

Sherlock winced, “Oh, right… You don’t know how he is.” Sherlock sighed, “Mycroft had exceptional difficulty finding an Alpha because he doesn’t react like a typical Omega–something I find somewhat difficult to understand, because I would think it would be appealing–but apparently most Alphas are idiots.”

“Yes, they are. Why? What does MYCROFT–dear God, he’s an Omega, really?–do?”

“He maintains about half his usual intelligence–”

“That son-of-a-BITCH!” Jim snarled.

“It isn’t Mummy’s fault,” Sherlock snorted. “Anyway, about half his usual intelligence, and the emotional maturity of a child: next to no inhibitions, cunning, manipulative, devious… and completely without his usual concern for the consequences.”

“It’s not FAIR!” Jim wailed, that was the only word for it, and started beating at Sherlock, the bed, himself–Sherlock grabbed his wrists and held on until he stopped.

“No, it isn’t; however, the fact is that he escaped confinement, and as far as I can tell Sebastian had already been exposed to far too much Omega pheromones. When Mycroft insisted that he had found a ‘nice Alpha’ it was all I could manage to convince him to try to sober the man up and talk to him.”

Sherlock released Jim’s wrists and rubbed at his own forehead. “Given how much trouble I had dealing with your pheromones, I expect he’s my in-law by now.”

“He could get OUT? In HEAT?!”

Sherlock sighed, “I expect Sebastian thought that he was harmless.”

“Rowen House has a secure CELL!”

“Do you honestly think an Alpha who thought he was kidnapping another Alpha is prepared for an Omega, any Omega, much less one who can still…” Sherlock trailed off.

“Still think? Behave like a human being? Manage to even keep up with the ordinary little people?” Jim snarled.

“I was going to say pick locks, but yes.” Sherlock sighed.

“He can pick LOCKS? In HEAT?!”

Sherlock smiled fondly and reminisced a bit, “Oh, yes… Our parents tried to lock him up during his Heat and he would get out–he knew I didn’t sleep well, so he’d come read to me until I fell asleep.”

“Read… to you…” Jim sagged. _Even in Heat, he could…_ “No wonder you didn’t want anything to do with me.”

“I didn’t want anything to do with you because you threatened my friend.” Sherlock glared at him. “If you hadn’t threatened John, I honestly might have considered it. Then you destroyed my life, threatened my friends… tried to make me kill myself.”

“So? You had me tortured.”

Sherlock looked at him like he wasn’t making any sense. “What?”

“You think I didn’t figure out that you were in with your brother on working me over?” Jim snapped at him.

Sherlock was looking at him: _He’s telling the truth? What_? “I… don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

Jim stared at him, “Your brother had me in his cells for weeks, and you were involved: you know damn well what I’m talking about!”

“Yesss… You were in interrogation, and you wouldn’t say anything unless my brother gave you details about my life; I approved it.” Sherlock had unpleasant and unwelcome thoughts clicking into place. “You’re… saying… they hurt you?”

“Are you honestly trying to convince me you think he throws people into secret government cells without so much as a legal pretense and DOESN’T?” Jim laughed and it had something like broken glass in the sound.

“I… assumed there would be some discomfort…” Sherlock tried to consider how much he had asked, how much he hadn’t… “I never wanted to be involved in his work: that was Uncle Rudy’s business, and I hated him.”

“Discomfort…” Jim stared at him, “Discomfort? The closest I came to mere discomfort was the sleep deprivation, I suppose–I’m used to that, although that’s usually my own idea. A good few volts of electricity to the soles of your feet, or doubling you over ‘till you can’t breathe, does tend to keep you awake–of course, they stopped that after they upped the voltage enough that they started worrying about my ribs, or my heart. After that, they went back to the old fashioned methods–”

Sherlock was staring at him with wide eyes, “I assumed… No, I had no idea. Given Uncle Rudy, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, but Mycroft… Mycroft’s methods of sticking a knife in you were usually verbal tricks and manipulation: getting you to do what he wanted, whether you wanted to or not; backing you into a corner so you’d choose his way out.”

He sighed and leaned back on the wall, “Like you forcing me to commit suicide–doing what you wanted as the only option left. As I said, you’re very much alike: I have no idea how I managed to fall in love with someone who does everything I so despise in Mycroft; I suppose it’s because your earlier games weren’t as much like him.”

“I am NOTHING like–wait, what did you say?”

“I believe you heard me.”

“You… are in love… with me.” Jim snorted, “You rather firmly declared all that to be chemical rubbish.”

“It is chemical rubbish: doesn’t make it any less a fact. If it weren’t for the fact that I DO love you, I likely wouldn’t even be considering forgiving you for trying to rape me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: NEITHER of these two people are well adjusted, or any good at healthy relationships. they are not good examples, thank you.


	10. Balance and turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> consent and care:   
> TW discussion of past abuse, internalized victim blaming

Sebastian had Mycroft curled up against him making purring noises. He seemed deliriously happy and was still rocking back and forth, only now it was against Sebastian’s leg. _He must have terrifying levels of control; the only reason I have any is the suppressant._

“Why didn’t you take the Heat suppressant?”

“If I go out of Heat you can’t Bond me, and you probably won’t fuck me, and I’ll get all upset and try to hide, I bet.”

“Hide?”

“In my office, it’s what I usually do.” Mycroft looked thoughtful. “Or in my club–no one can talk to me in my club, so no one makes me sad.”

“Don’t you get sad being alone?”

“Yes, but not as sad as when people are around: people are horrid.”

Sebastian leaned own and kissed him; he acted shocked, like no one had ever done that before.

“Mycroft… hasn’t anyone ever KISSED you?”

“No, they didn’t kiss me they just–” Mycroft cut off fast with a panicked look and actually tried to pull away.

Sebastian narrowed his eyes and pulled him back in close. “Mycroft?”

“Nonononononono…” Mycroft shut his eyes and whined frantically, “No, you wanted me, I know you did, please don’t leave me!”

“I–I’m not going anywhere… Tell me what’s wrong, please?”

Mycroft was curling in on himself whimpering something about finding out. Sebastian hugged him and then, since he’d apparently enjoyed being kissed, kissed him again.

 _Well, if we’re going to be Bonded, I suppose I can at least reassure him one way_ … Sebastian slid his hands down over Mycroft’s ass and his fingers slid along the slick… and then Sebastian froze, because Mycroft wasn’t thrusting into him–wasn’t even rubbing against his leg anymore–he was shivering and sniffling…

“Mycroft?” He started pulling his hand up and Mycroft cried and clutched at him. “Mycroft what’s wrong? You wanted me to fuck you but now you’re scared?”

“You weren’t going to notice before… You would have just fucked me and you never would have known… God, I’m stupid, why did I let Sherlock talk me into giving you the shot…” Mycroft had a vicious, hateful tone in his voice–and it was all aimed inward. “Now you’ll leave, you wouldn’t have left if–”

Sebastian wanted to start barking orders, but he got the feeling he would just terrorize him, so he kept his voice as soft as he could. “Mycroft? Please don’t assume stuff about me. Why would I leave? I haven’t left yet and I could…”

“I’m ugly,” Mycroft whispered.

 _Oh God, we’re back to that._ “You aren’t ugly, you aren’t fat–and I think you may be too thin–you aren’t stupid, for God’s sake…”

“I’m dirty,” Mycroft whispered in a resigned tone.

“You mean you want sex? You’re in Heat, I–”

“You wouldn’t be first,” Mycroft sighed. “Alphas all want to be first.”

“Uh… I would actually kind of hope by your age I wouldn’t be…” Sebastian was so confused, but then he stopped… _Omega… Did he mean I wasn’t his first Alpha_? “Mycroft, I thought you hadn’t found an Alpha who liked you? I’m glad if you did, but… what happened?”

“They didn’t like me. They tried to kill me when I escaped.”

“Okay… Mycroft?” Sebastian pulled him on top of himself much to Mycroft’s startlement. “Please remember that I am ONLY a highly trained and intelligent SAS colonel? Can you… I don’t know… put it in a report format? Spell it out? Maybe a comic book?”

Mycroft actually giggled, even though he was still sniffling.

“You had an Alpha?”

“Kind of? After the Alpha showed up and he was going to Bond me I escaped.” Mycroft was still speaking very quietly.

“Escaped–so this was when you were in a cell before?” Mycroft nodded. “When they STARVED you?!” He nodded again. Sebastian felt pure fury trying to claw its way past the suppressants and dug his fingers into the bed. “What kind of miserable excuse for an Alpha starves an Omega?”

“It was Betas, at first…” he sniffled. “When I went into Heat, they… I pretended to be dumb–so I could escape.”

Sebastian could suddenly see it: a prisoner was suddenly revealed to be an Omega: insanely valuable and the subject of uncounted porn fantasies. Unless they were expecting to sell a virgin Omega, they would view this as a rare opportunity… and Mycroft already had self-esteem issues…

“You’re not dirty, Mycroft. Do you remember what I said when I found out you were going into Heat?”

Mycroft looked up at him and frowned, “Which thing? You said a lot.”

“I’m not a rapist,” Sebastian said as calmly as he could. “Yes, I could get overwhelmed by pheromones and go into a Rut, but then I wouldn’t be capable of being responsible, really. Betas don’t even get affected like we do by the hormones, so they have no excuse. You were a PRISONER…”

“I pretended to want it,” he admitted quietly. “I pretended to be stupid, even when the Alpha showed up.”

Sebastian looked up at him, “You do what you have to, to get an opportunity to escape–didn’t they tell you that?”

“No.”

Sebastian pulled him down into his chest. “I will find whoever debriefed you and kill them slowly.”

“They said it was because I was an Omega: I shouldn’t be in the field.”

“You shouldn’t be–NOT because it’s your fault: it isn’t! You shouldn’t be in the field because you have a need for regular doses of a medicine. It’s no different than sending someone who needs heart medicine or insulin–if anything happened, they wouldn’t be able to get their meds.” Sebastian stroked Mycroft’s hair back and kissed his forehead. “They chose to rape you. I don’t know if the Alpha had a choice or he was in Rut, but the Betas had no excuse.”

“He… was in Rut, eventually. He saw on the cameras first, I think.”

“Then he made a choice and it’s his responsibility–not yours. The person with the POWER is always responsible.” Sebastian realized he was beginning to notice Mycroft’s scent again. “Mycroft, you don’t want me to go into Rut, really–it might remind you too much.”

“You’re nice, and I’m not in a cell… You still want me, even…”

“Mycroft… do you think YOU are going to want ME? I’m not exactly pure as the driven snow myself here.”

“I want you. I told Sherlock so.” Mycroft was getting that mulish set to his face again. “You’re a NICE Alpha and you didn’t get mad that I was smart.”

“Okay… then I want you to do something.”

“What?”

“I want YOU to put me inside you, just the way you are now–with you on top of me–while I can’t go into a full Rut.”

“Okay!” Mycroft looked and sounded delighted/ “Why?” He was already climbing off and pulling off Sebastian’s trousers and pants. Sebastian pulled off his shirt and lay back down while Mycroft stripped off his socks–his shoes apparently having been off from the time he woke up.

_Well, at least he was still enthused about it. So he was just afraid I’d be upset, not… traumatized into not wanting to._

“Because that way if you panic, you can stop.”

Mycroft looked at him oddly. “Huh… That makes sense.”

Sebastian grinned, “I’m not STUPID, Mycroft.”

“If you were stupid, I wouldn’t want you.” He was staring at Sebastian’s crotch kind of speculatively. “You’re bigger than he was, I think.”

 _Well, fuck, what do you say to that?_ “Ummm… another good reason for you to be in control of this?”

Mycroft, as it turned out, might have had limited experience, but had a damned fine understanding of the mechanics and the biology. It took a bit of coaxing to get Sebastian hard–suppressants, after all–but it wasn’t long before Mycroft was settling himself very carefully onto Sebastian.

He looked like he was nervous, but excited, and he started rocking back and forth on Sebastian’s dick the way he had on his heels and against Sebastian’s leg. Sebastian groaned and could almost FEEL the suppressants being overridden.

“Oh God, that feels good…” Sebastian started panting a bit and… _Damn, Mycroft’s scent was getting stronger._

“You… You feel nice…” Mycroft closed his eyes and… wriggled.

“Myc… Mycroft? In another… not long I won’t be able to stop.” It was already taking an effort of will to hold still and let him experiment.

“It’s okay, you were nice when you didn’t have to be: I know you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Can… Can we move a bit?” Sebastian’s voice had dropped into a growl.

Mycroft’s eyes went wide, although he didn’t look frightened, mostly surprised. “Wow…”

Sebastian carefully flipped them so that Mycroft was on his back on the bed and Sebastian was on top of him.

Mycroft looked up intently, “Can we stay like this? They didn’t look at me.”

“Yeah, we stay like this.” Sebastian started to thrust into him and Mycroft’s eyes dilated impossibly fast–it was like watching a black hole swallowing the light eyes–and then he made this needy, whining noise that went straight to Sebastian’s cock and the suppressants threw up their virtual hands and surrendered.

Sebastian remembered Mycroft making needy noises, and pleased noises, and was delighted to find that an Omega nearly his own size–and he never expected to find that–meant he could kiss him and lick him and bite him all without having to stop…

There was a smell that went from “Omega in Heat” to “MY Bondmate–MY Omega” and the taste of him in his mouth… and not much after that.


	11. Turn to the Center

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't normally do this, but... there are very good reasons for some people to skip this chapter. so despite the risk of spoilering: Jim Moriarty has internalized a lot of VERY wrong ideas about consent, rape, and abuse because of his history. Sherlock and Jim discuss this. There are no flashbacks, just discussion.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: internalized victim blaming, really bad internalized ideas about consent and rape, past abuse, past rape discussions... referenced/implied past child abuse

Jim stared at him, “You can’t rape an Alpha!”

Sherlock froze and tracked slowly back from the spot in the ceiling corner he’d been staring at– or not staring at– and said, “What did you say?”

“You can’t rape an Alpha! That’s ridiculous! I wasn’t fucking you; you were going to fuck ME!”

Sherlock’s face went very still and his eyes almost gleamed. Jim recognized the face of someone about to do you serious hurt and while he had no idea WHY he still couldn’t get away…

Sherlock got up very stiffly and walked out.   Thirty seconds later there was the sound of furniture being thrown and Jim went under the bed without thinking.

_Dining room chair– they had a distinctive sound when they came apart; cheap or expensive._

_Glass and heavy…? The big mirror._

_Wow…That was a sofa– right, Alphas are strong._

_Shattering sounds, not glass… ceramic?  Ah, the  vase._

_Repeated thuds traveling through the wall? Someone– Sherlock obviously– punching a wall nearby… a lot._

Jim lay curled under the bed, knowing he could be dragged out by the chain at any moment, contemplating the fact that decades later he could still identify thrown objects by the sound they made smashing into things as he hid.

It got quiet pretty fast, which usually meant they would come in and drag you out– or they went out to find drugs…

Hmmmm…

_Sherlock… might… go out and find drugs… in which case he would either come back  and fuck me, come back and hit me, come back and pass out… or not come back._

_…And Sebastian was the only one likely to come get him and Mycroft had him: Sebie would come unglued in his cells._   Jim stared at the bottom of the bed… _I suppose Molly MIGHT check in on me? Assuming Sherlock didn’t come back…_

It’s funny how old habits came back, under the bed was perfectly comfortable really.  He reached up and over and dragged down the blanket.

~

After Sherlock got his temper back under control, and bandaged his hands, he sat down and organized his thoughts.  The worst part of all this, the very worst part, was that Jim actually believed what he said–which meant that they weren’t even speaking the same language.

He put together a sandwich and some biscuits and went back into the room.

_Empty? No… the chain went under the bed?_

“Jim, could you please come back out where I can see you?”

“I rather expected you would just drag me out when you got back. You can’t have gone far.”

“I refuse to drag a grown man out from under a bed, and I went as far as the bathroom and the kitchen.  I did bring a sandwich, although I have no idea what you like to eat other than apples.”

Jim came back out from underneath with a suspicious look. “You seem calm, but you aren’t high.”

“I am extremely far from calm, but I worked my temper out on the furnishings.”

“Oh? Usually people start on the furnishings and go to people.”

Sherlock sighed, “I was taking it out on the furnishings because I didn’t want to hit YOU.”

Jim blinked in a puzzled fashion and then a faint flickering grin crossed his face, “Well…. That’s novel.”

“I have come to the conclusion that while we are both speaking English, we are not actually speaking the same language.”

“Apparently not, I didn’t understand that very well.” Jim was eyeing the sandwich: Sherlock handed it to him watching as the man reflexively kept out of good strike range.

“As much as I think John would laugh himself sick over the idea that I am trying to explain social custom, societies, and law to you, I have to try.” He took a deep breath and asked, “If someone drugged an Omega into Heat, waited until they were whimpering and begging, and then fucked them: do you consider that rape?”

Jim looked puzzled, “no.”

 _Oh dear God._ “It is, though.”

“But they asked–”

“Drugged people cannot give consent.” Sherlock said very flatly. “It’s no different than drugging a Beta girl in a bar… You do understand that THAT’S Rape, don’t you?”

“Yeeesss… What’s that got to do with Omegas?”

“If I had drugged you into Heat and then fucked you, I could be charged with rape– and I should be.  The only complication would be that it would be likely that we had Bonded.  Then we get a nice legal argument over the archaic laws of Bond rights versus the current laws governing consent, BUT” –he kept talking over Jim’s protests– “it would still have been VERY bad, and it would still be rape.”

“It would…?” Jim sounded very dubious.

“I was kidnapped by you– I take it I don’t need to explain that?”

Jim rolled his eyes, “Obviously.”

“I was stripped naked and chained right there… because YOU wanted to have sex with me, and were not going to ALLOW me to say no…. That’s rape. That’s very clear cut rape.”

Sherlock sat back and rubbed his eyes, “The laws really aren’t cut out to cover the NATURAL drugs an Omega produces, because most of the lawyers never suspected that an Omega might kidnap an Alpha and make them smell their Heat to force them into sex… but KIDNAPPING because you won’t let someone say no? That’s pretty clear.”

Jim looked a bit headachy. “But you’re an Alpha…”

“Kidnapping, imprisoning, and drugging me until I have sex with you is rape.  The law might not understand the specifics, but as far as I am concerned– and absent the question of natural Heat pheromones– you tried to rape me.” Sherlock tried to stay calm but just the fact that he had to explain this was infuriating.

Jim was looking utterly bewildered. “But Alpha’s and Omega’s–”

“Jim, I deduced that you were abused, I am going to further deduce from your lack of comprehension of consent that you have been told a lot of utter nonsense in order to keep you from complaining about it– probably as a child.

“If someone knowingly drugged you into Heat without your approval: they raped you.  If someone knew you were in Heat, and **chose** to expose themselves when you didn’t arrange and agree to it in advance: they raped you.   Heat does not equal consent– I have been unable to get this ridiculous notion out of Mycroft’s head, and now I find out that you have the same one– worse.”

“When I’m in Heat I’m an idiot– but I want sex.”

Sherlock snorted, “Yes, I rather got a first-hand look at that, thank you.”

“So I consented…”

"THIS time, you consented; because you wanted to have sex with me BEFORE you went into Heat– do you understand?  It’s not like I was some random person who found you in Heat… as if you wanted me and got some random thug who works for you.”

Jim shuddered, “ugh! No!”

“You had consented to sex WITH ME when you still were clear headed, so YES you had consented to sex– with me, not just with anyone– this time.” Sherlock sighed, “I feel like I’m having a discussion with me back when I was just presenting as an Alpha– God, I was an idiot.”

“Why, what happened?”

“There was a pretty young thing Omega… at the time I was young and very much interested, and I smelled the first traces of Heat and assumed… a lot.” Sherlock leaned his head back on the wall. “I was even less socially adept than I am now.”

Jim snickered faintly, “That’s hard to believe.”

“In any event I had the concepts of consent, individual choice, and ‘people are not interchangeable, Sherlock, just because they want another Alpha doesn’t mean they want you’,”– he mimicked his tutor’s nasal voice for that –“rather firmly lectured at me until I at least agreed to obey the rules, although it took me several more years before I understood them.”

Sherlock shook his head, “In any event, because you obviously and CLEARLY said you wanted to have sex with me before your mind melted,” –Jim frowned at that last part but didn’t argue– “YOU were consenting to sex with me.”

“Alright, so what’s the problem again?”

“I very clearly said NO. I did not consent. I rather emphatically did not consent.”

Jim was chewing on his lip and frowning. “But why wouldn’t you–”

“Irrelevant to the discussion of rape,” Sherlock said flatly. “I will discuss WHY with you once we get the facts established: I said no– you tried to force me.”

“I…never thought you could rape an Alpha.”

“If you had NOT wanted to have sex with me– for whatever reason– and I had kidnapped you and done this… would you forgive me?” Sherlock frowned, “remember, you said no… in this hypothetical case I kidnapped you and drugged you, chained you in a room and forced you into Heat.”

“I never forgave the last one, no.” Jim was suddenly Moriarty again, flat and hard, “Although he didn’t need the chains, and I’m not sure you could call it kidnapping.”

“You did that to me.”

Jim sat there very quietly without his usual play of expressions: after a long while a sort of sad look crept over his face. “I never meant to– you were the only Alpha I ever wanted… I never wanted any of the other ones.”

“You hurt me– worse you hurt my friends, and I don’t have many– then you killed yourself right in front of me, and before I could even process that… you had me drugged and kidnapped so you could rape me.” Sherlock sighed, “By Molly… one of the few people we trusted with the whole plan.”

“Don’t hurt her… I don’t beg worth a damn, but… don’t.  She’s all I have left.”

“That’s really ironic coming from you.”

Jim shrugged. “Probably. So now what.”

“I don’t know.  The fact that you honestly didn’t understand what you were doing to me makes this a  little easier to cope with…but I’ve been betrayed by someone I trusted, and  you… the fact is, the only reason I didn’t offer to run off with you  in the first place is that you threatened my friends, and now you did this.”

“…what?” Jim stared at him. “You would have what?”

“Mycroft was terrified I was going to run off with you, you know… right up until you threatened John.” He sighed, “Even after that… if you had just left him out of it… of course I missed a lot going on between you and Mycroft, but still…”

“I kidnapped you because it was the only way to have you,” Jim shrugged. “I’m a criminal; I’m rather used to using criminal means.” He frowned, “I hadn’t compared it to… that.”

“Why did Molly…”Sherlock blinked a lot trying to not cry.

Jim glanced at him and looked away. “She wanted you for a while,” Jim sighed, “I agreed to let her have first shot at you– you treated her horribly.”

“Women make me nervous.” Sherlock admitted.

“Oh.” Jim nodded slowly, “that makes sense.”

“So she hurt me, because she was upset? That I didn’t want her?”

“She didn’t think she was hurting you; I think she hoped we’d both settle down once we were Bonded.”

“We both know I was never leaving this room alive.”

“Probably…” Jim admitted, “But I had hoped… I had hoped you would Bond me, and that would–”

“Solve everything?”

“I guess. It sounds stupid now.” Jim sighed faintly, “She knew I wanted you. Once she had her chance… she even admitted to you that we were better suited, but I think you were unconscious by then.”

Sherlock tried to go over it but the injection was the last thing he remembered clearly. “She had to know you would kill me, and in any event she knew you wanted to rape me.”

"I don’t think she thought of it that way either– and like I said: she thought we would Bond and… I guess she hoped it would solve everything too.”

Sherlock got up very quietly and went out: eventually he went to bed.

Jim sat there for a while and eventually pulled the blanket up from under the bed and lay down.

Neither of them slept well.

 


	12. Bow to Your Corner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People... do not always react the way you'd expect, and doubts once planted are hard to remove

At some point in the night, the chain wrapped around Jim’s legs. When he tossed around the next time and couldn’t move his legs, he came awake in a panic and fell off the bed. Eventually–and Jim hated to think about how long it had taken–he calmed down some and noticed that the handcuff keys were on the floor near the chair Sherlock had been in.

They were placed suspiciously well to be noticed as soon as Jim would have gotten up and moved away from the bed– _So, deliberately dropped._

He unlocked his ankle and slipped out of the room. The place looked like a tornado had hit it: an oddly specific tornado, since none of the books had been touched.

_Figures Sherlock wouldn’t throw books._

Jim carefully picked his way past the glass–being barefoot made him very cautious–and to his bedroom… Sherlock was lying on the bed staring up at the ceiling.

“Sherlock?”

“Yes?” he sounded distracted.

“I appreciate the key, but… I don’t understand?”

“I suppose I had planned to be gone by the time you found it, and then… I didn’t have anywhere to go.”

 _What?_ “Home?”

“John thinks I’m dead, and I still don’t trust the snipers issue–assuming John wasn’t just paid off by Mycroft in the first place.”

“Pardon?” Jim blinked a lot. “Paid off to do what?”

“Molly was your agent and I never saw it… I thought she was real, but I always thought it was unlikely that John actually… liked me. I did think he might have been you, at the pool, for a little while.”

Jim sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. “As far as I know John is simply an insane lunatic with a danger fetish and a fascination for consulting detectives–so he has taste, anyway.

“If Mycroft hired him, he did a better job of covering his tracks than I would expect.” Jim looked thoughtful, “And his reactions to you seemed very real, even when you weren’t watching him–I did rather keep tabs on you both.”

“He could have been one of yours.”

Jim snorted. “Hardly! I would have re-assigned him when you got… attached.”

Sherlock turned that over in his mind. “Point. He still might work for Mycroft.”

“I can’t speak to anything before, oh, the bombing that blew out your windows, but after that? I saw no evidence that his reactions to you were anything but real.” Jim muttered, “Annoying, but real.”

“I thought Molly was real.”

“Oh, for FUCK’s sake, my sister was utterly besotted with you–nothing unreal about it!”

Sherlock jerked and looked over at him for the first time. “Sister?”

“She was adopted by the Hoopers,” Jim shrugged. “She was smitten with you, you treated her like garbage, and she eventually conceded my point that you were terrible for her.” Jim grumbled, “…string of asshole abusive boyfriends I’ve had to kill over the years…”

Sherlock stared at him. “Was I really that bad?”

“Well, at least you didn’t start by being nice and giving her things and THEN turn on her–you were just rude and obnoxious to her the whole time.” Jim drummed his fingers against his leg. “I think she’s still hung up on you, but, yeah… suddenly being nice to her because you wanted something did kind of help me point out that most of her boyfriends were like that.”

“She…”

“Made you nervous–you said.”

“Yes, and she also seemed to want something… otherwise, she would have left…”

“She’s not quite got my temper, but of course she wanted something: she wanted your attention.”

Sherlock chuckled briefly–it didn’t sound happy–“She would have been better off sneering at me and waving a riding crop. I always was interested in things that were bad for me.”

“Irene is a bitch.”

“My point. Irene, you, drugs, Victor, poisons, and–”

“Victor?”

“College. Utter bloody disaster from start to finish.”

“Should I be flattered I’m in the list?”

“Probably not.”

“John isn’t?”

Sherlock looked thoughtful. “Sometimes he is. I adore him and I would do anything to keep him safe–which you knew–but… my attraction to him came and went. I expect it confused him.”

“Was Victor a Beta?”

“No. Alpha.”

Jim raised an eyebrow, “Aren’t you more than enough Alpha in one room?”

Sherlock chuckled, “Oh, yes. He… He was attracted to me, but couldn’t cope with the fact that I was an Alpha; eventually, it got obviously abusive–it had been abusive before that, I just hadn’t seen it.”

“I can’t picture it.”

“Irene wasn’t the first one to hit me, just the first one to use a riding crop.” He shrugged, “The words hurt more, honestly.”

Jim nodded: he got that.

“So… did…” Jim frowned. “I HATE talking about emotions–real ones. Why can’t we talk about plans to blow something up?”

Sherlock started laughing; eventually, he was wiping his eyes and grinning at Jim, “Maybe we should get a blood test before we even consider sex.”

Jim looked offended, “I checked your blood tests and I know mine!”

“I meant, to make sure we aren’t actually related: that sounds like me or Myc.”

Jim stared at him; he very slowly went pale. “Please tell me that’s not even a remote possibility?” he said very quietly.

Sherlock stared at him, “Err… not as far as I know? Uh... why?”

“Mum was a whore–God only knows who my father was.” Jim looked embarrassed, “I don’t think the same father as Molly.”

Sherlock blinked twice and dropped into analysis. “Mycroft was never THAT precocious, and I can’t picture my Father doing anything like that, although people are strange,” Sherlock said with his eyes flicking past invisible files. “Uncle Rudy is a real possibility, though: I have no idea of his personal life.”

“What an utterly horrifying idea.” Jim was making a face.

“I actually should have considered it.” Sherlock frowned. “We look nothing alike, but if you took after your mother–”

“From what I remember? Mum looked like Molly–or rather, I think she must have before life got so hard on her.” He shrugged, “She died of a drug overdose when I was still pretty young. We were both in foster care by then, but no one wants a too-smart older boy; a very shy little girl, though: she got adopted quick.”

“Mycroft might know.”

“Why?”

Sherlock looked puzzled. “He’s Mycroft!” he said, as if that explained everything. “He’s a bit loopy right now, but normally he’s thought of anything I could come up with well before I do. He probably ran a blood test when you were brought in.”

Jim closed his eyes for a moment and then startled because Sherlock had somehow moved in the time it took him to blink. _Oh, I’d dozed off_.

“We’re both falling asleep sitting up,” Sherlock’s lip quirked up. “I have been reliably informed that this is a symptom of needing something called ‘sleep’ and that I would do better if I tried getting some on a regular basis.”

Jim grinned and rolled his eyes, “Oh, right. Next, people will be saying we need to eat something besides apples and tea.”

Sherlock looked at him and they both started laughing.

“Come on, the bed’s big enough for two,” Sherlock said lying back down– he was still mostly dressed.

“I’ve been told I thrash around a bit,” Jim admitted.

“I’ve been told worse,” Sherlock shrugged.

Jim lay down and they both tried to get back to sleep, lying as far apart on the bed as they could.

When Jim woke up, Sherlock was curled around him like a rather determined octopus, drooling on his shoulder. It was oddly comfortable: despite being pinned down he didn’t feel panicked. Jim just sighed and went back to sleep.


	13. Toast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes i know this conversation sounds really strange. If you thought these two were normal i am VERY sorry.

Sherlock woke up and found–to his horror–that he was curled around Jim as if Jim was a spectacularly comfortable Teddy Bear. _Oh, thank God Mycroft didn’t see this. I’ve apparently been mouthing his shoulder instead of sucking my thumb or something_. Sherlock slunk out of bed quickly and went to wash up. _Thank God Jim was apparently a heavy sleeper when he was this tired._

He was standing in the kitchen, having managed to start the tea and the coffee–he didn’t know which Jim preferred and so had set up both–when Jim came out.

“I… uh… don’t suppose you cook?” Sherlock asked hopefully.

“Because I’m an Omega?” Jim had the edge of a growl in his voice.

“No,” Sherlock said, trying to sound calm and not edge into panic, “because apparently somewhere along the line I deleted all information about cooking a decent breakfast–assuming I ever had it. I haven’t cooked anything but toast and tea in… Well, that’s what JOHN is for!”

Jim shook his head at Sherlock and then looked dubiously at the fridge. “That’s what Sebastian is for, or my chef…”

After contemplating the utter impossibility of cooking anything for breakfast, they settled on eating toaster pastries. They were two grown men; they could manage a toaster, right?

“I’ve eaten worse,” admitted Jim, as he nibbled around the blackened crust of the toaster pastry.

Sherlock, after witnessing the toaster attempt suicide by fire, was eating his raw. “I used to eat them like this all the time when I was on drug benders: no toasters in most flop houses.”

“There are a lot of prepacked meals and meal bars in the other room.” Jim sighed. “So what now? My original plans… weren’t very good plans.”

“I was supposed to be meeting Mycroft to figure out how much work it would take to find and remove the snipers–and undo whatever else of your network we could manage under cover of my ‘death’. Of course, that’s a moot point with you being here and Mycroft… indisposed. I did text him, so once he sobers up and gets over it he should call.”

“Why aren’t you angry at Mycroft? He trapped Sebastian…”

“First of all, his going into Heat was accidental: he didn’t TRY to get locked in with an Alpha.”

Jim nodded slowly.

“Secondly, whatever resources you have as a prisoner you tend to use to escape–he had been kidnapped, and you CAN’T tell me he was safe.” Sherlock looked Jim in the eye and dared him to say any such thing.

“Well, no… especially since Sebastian wanted me as his Omega: he’s protective.”

Sherlock froze. “You… Wait, what?”

“Sebastian had a horrible crush on me–and was all kinds of ‘I’m not gay!’ about it–back when he thought I was a Beta. I admit, I took advantage of that.” Jim shrugged, “I thought I would have to shoot him when he found out, but… he was remarkably polite and well-mannered and… he still listened to me.”

Sherlock stared at Jim. “What the hell did he think of THIS then?” he said, waving at the room and himself.

Jim stopped eating and looked thoughtful. “I... don’t know. I know he didn’t LIKE the idea… It was pretty clear he expected me to shoot you–or ask him to shoot you–eventually. I got the impression he was waiting for me to get over you and realize he was there?”

“What did he think of you kidnapping me for sex?”

“I don’t know,” Jim shrugged. “Like I said, he seemed unhappy but I never asked.”

Sherlock got very worried. “Mycroft thought he was a ‘nice Alpha’ but… he isn’t thinking clearly. I did insist he sober Sebastian up to talk to him before anything else,” he frowned at Jim, “because of consent issues.” Sherlock started tearing a pastry into pieces. “Is he likely to HURT Mycroft?”

“I… Most Alpha’s wouldn’t listen to an Omega boss, or back off when my suppressants failed–he did. So I don’t think he’s inclined to abuse an Omega, but I don’t know how safe he is with MYCROFT…” Jim shrugged. “But I wanted Mycroft in good shape as a leverage point for you, so… probably safe enough?”

“It’s… Mycroft has enough sense to take precautions when he sobered him up…” Sherlock wasn’t certain if he was stating a fact or trying to reassure himself.

“I can try to call Sebastian’s phone, or text him, but… if they are Bonded he won’t be checking, and if he’s a prisoner he won’t be checking–hell, he’ll be in pieces–and if he’s holding Mycroft prisoner he probably won’t check either, since he would expect me to be out of contact.”

Jim pulled out a toaster pastry, unwrapped it, and started eating it raw like Sherlock was. “The slightly more immediate concern is whether your brother told anyone where we were, or you were followed.”

“Can’t you just find out?” Sherlock asked.

“I let a good bit of the network think I was dead, so there are far fewer people I can call.” Jim sighed, “Besides, I put out a one week lock down: no one will initiate or accept any contact for less than World War Three.”

“To avoid tracing by Mycroft during the ‘vulnerable’ period after your death–brilliant,” Sherlock said a bit grudgingly.

“If Mycroft puts Tiger in a cell, I swear I’ll find a way to kill that frost covered son-of-a-bitch.”

“He… seemed quite enamored.”

“It’s hard to picture Mycroft being anything but a vindictive weasel.”

Sherlock tried not to laugh, and failed. “Well, he IS a vindictive weasel–but he still sounded enamored.” Then he lost his smile and got up and rummaged around in the refrigerator; after a bit, he gave up and sat back down. “He’s… He’s not quite the Iceman you call him–especially not right now.”

“If… If they Bond, he shouldn’t be able to hurt his Alpha.” Jim frowned.

“Not everyone reacts to a Bond the same way, and Mycroft is atypical in Heat–he might be able to. Would Sebastian hurt HIS Omega?”

“I can’t imagine him doing it, but… Alphas that seem okay can get abusive.” Jim frowned, “Omegas can’t… Why do you think he could do anything against an Alpha?”

“History…” muttered Sherlock.

“He’s never been Bonded, you said.” Jim was looking thoughtful.

“Not… entirely true.” Sherlock muttered, “Maybe.”

Jim frowned, “You said he only had three Heats and…” He paled. “You said he was abused and his suppressants ran out.” The pastry dropped unnoticed from his fingers.

“I don’t know the details,” Sherlock admitted. “I know that he… he jumped at shadows for a long time, he refused to have a male assistant ever again, and his bodyguards all had to be either female or people with steady, long-term relationships… It wouldn’t take ME to figure out what happened.” Sherlock shrugged, “And I was the only unbonded Alpha he let near him for years… but he obviously didn’t feel safe with Betas, either.”

Jim bared his teeth, “Oh, trust me, Sherlock, Betas are the prime consumers of Omega porn videos: they all want one.”

“I’ve worked on criminal cases,” Sherlock snorted. “I’m well aware of the various risks.”

“You think he was raped by an Alpha, or you think he was Bonded by one?”

“I think he was raped by more than one person, one of whom was an Alpha–I have no idea if he was Bonded.” Sherlock shook his head, “And I shouldn’t even be telling you this.”

“Why are you?”

“Because, as I found out when I got him drunk and managed to get him talking once, he honestly doesn’t think he was raped either.”

Jim sat there quietly. “But he was?”

“Of course he was.”

“And I was?”

“It’s fairly obvious.”

Jim very slowly said, “But…”

“There are no ‘buts’ involved: if you didn’t consent, or you were forced to consent, its rape.”

“Even… I mean… Mycroft was on some kind of mission–he wasn’t…” Jim was obviously trying to communicate something but not come out and say it.

Sherlock drily commented, “Did I say anything about you sitting there eating burnt pastry?”

“No.”

“Did you say anything about my being equally unable to operate a damned toaster?”

“I still think the toaster was booby-trapped as an assassination attempt.”

“You do not,” Sherlock said solemnly, “but it’s a good story and we’ll stick to it.”

Jim grinned and nodded.

Sherlock shrugged, “So? Just spit it out.”

Jim laughed until he couldn’t anymore. “I wouldn’t have made much money that way.”

Sherlock looked adorably puzzled, with his brow crinkled up and his lips pursed. “What?”

“Oh… Oh GOD, you don’t even… How can you NOT be a virgin and still be that clueless?”

Sherlock suddenly got the reference and flushed. “Oh.”

“Wait… you… aren’t really, are you?”

Sherlock mumbled something into his cup of coffee.

“You said you had a relationship with this Victor–who I am going to knife, by the way–so you CAN’T be, right?”

“Define virgin…” Sherlock said, staring at the wall; the countertop; the coffee.

“Have you ever…” Jim stopped and blinked at him a few times. “Oral sex?”

“Oh… Yes, certainly.” Sherlock nodded, “Even before you.”

Jim almost missed that, then said, “What?”

“You… uh…” Sherlock flushed and got up and fiddled with the coffee maker. “I was trying to figure out how to get out of the collar and tried to talk to you–”

“Lost cause, in Heat… I vaguely remember getting you a saw, damn it.”

“Before that you rather suddenly… I should have thrown you off of me, but uh… you… fellated me.”

Jim smirked, “Are you telling me I retain my skills at a blow job even in that state?”

Sherlock’s eyes were huge. _He looked exactly like some sort of deer in headlights, and his eyes were going dark, and… yes, indeed: hard all over._ Jim grinned at him and deliberately ran his tongue over his teeth.

“Anyway… Yes… Well… I have… um… oral sex, but not…” Sherlock paused and somehow looked both completely, adorably innocent and sexy as hell. Jim had the impression that any sudden moves and Sherlock might bolt.

“Wanna do it again now that I can think straight?”

“Yes,” said Sherlock–then he suddenly realized what he’d just said and quickly added, “Uh, no?”

Jim pulled his spoon out of his tea and started licking the tea and sugar off of it. “So, this consent thing… neither of us is drugged, I’m not in Heat, you’re not in Rut… and there’s no handcuffs around… sooo… why not?”

Sherlock was blinking as if his brain was trying to reset. Eventually, he said, “Because you’re a dangerous, manipulative, violent criminal?”

“That’s sweet, Sherly… Have you come up with any reasons why not yet?”

“Just… oral… nothing else… alright?”

“I’d cross my heart, but I don’t have one,” Jim grinned and sauntered back into the bedroom.

After a short pause Sherlock followed him.


	14. Dance In and Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, warning: i tried. i did. this was supposed to be just a simple straightforward smutty chapter and...  
> they had... emotions and stuff. i know its a tough chapter but HONESTLY its progress, party because they ARE talking and its more honest.

Sherlock was honestly not certain why he’d agreed– _best blowjob of his life by someone whose brain wasn’t even on: what could he do now?_ – oh that’s why.

Jim looked at him with amusement, “What are you thinking?”

“Can’t you tell?”

“Sometimes.”

Sherlock took a deep breath and told the truth. “I was thinking that however much I enjoyed what you did before, it would have to be a hundred times better with you… actually here.”

“You know, you may be the only Alpha I ever heard of who didn’t prefer an Omega in Heat?”

Sherlock made a face. “I… fell in love with a brilliant, if twisted, criminal mastermind who flirted with puzzles and cleverness, not…”

“A sex crazed idiot?”

“Someone so frightened of me that my main response was to try to find them a shock blanket and a cookie.” Sherlock muttered.  Jim recoiled and looked at him in something that might have been horror. “It’s true,” he said a bit more firmly, “Probably the only reason I didn’t go under from the scent of you was the fact that …he… you… was obviously terrified of me as well as somehow managing to look underage.”

“Wow… way to spoil THAT mood.”

“It’s true.” Sherlock muttered.

“You know, I thought Molly was exaggerating, but I honestly think she just didn’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“She thought you were deliberately trying to hurt her because you didn’t like her– I just realized you start throwing barbs and blurting out comments like that when you’re scared.”

Sherlock sagged onto the bed. “I told you women make me nervous.”

“So you lash out or just babble?”

“Generally.”

“What made you that nervous now?” Jim mused thoughtfully, “Ah… the prospect of actually having sex.  So is it just sort of general nerves or something in specific?”

“If you EVER want me to be able to have blood flow to that part of my anatomy again, stop sounding like my brother.”

Jim made a face, “I sound nothing like him.”

“I should go back out and try to figure out how to clean up the mess.” Sherlock muttered.

“I never thought you were someone to run away from a problem.”

“What problem!”

“An experiment then, as you said… how much better is it?” Jim arched an eyebrow, “And you’re SCARED.”

“I’m not scared.” Sherlock was clenching his jaw.

Jim made a show of looking at his nails and ignoring him.

“Fine! Go ahead!”

“No.”

Sherlock stopped and stared at him, “What? But you wanted…”

“I wanted to give you a blowjob and watch you melt, and eventually watch as your brain stopped even trying to process anything but  ‘more’ and ‘fuck heroin I need this’ and eventually stop thinking and  then taste you as you came apart in my mouth.” Jim watched Sherlock’s pupils blow again and his legs wobble, “but you OBVIOUSLY aren’t interested, so in the interests of consent…”

“I... may have been hasty… and a bit nervous.”

“IF you actually want to, get back out of those clothes and come over here.”  Jim stood up and started peeling out of his clothes.

“Right…” Sherlock did, rather nervously and then asked “why?” as he walked over to the bed

“What do you mean why?!”

“In my experience one hardly needs to be completely nude…”

Jim pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered something in Gaelic.

“What?”

“I was wondering how your family managed to breed…”

Sherlock sat down and looked amused again, so that was something. “Arranged marriages, mostly.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. Uncle Rudy never did have any children that I know of– thankfully; Mummy is the only Vernet of her generation to have any children; Father was the only Holmes of his immediate generation to have any children and the nearest other relatives I have are all quite distant cousins.” Sherlock shrugged, “Given my own proclivities, and Mycroft’s complete failure to be married off? I’m afraid we all rather expected the Holmes line to end– or at least be inherited by… let’s see… Caroline?  Either Caroline or Jeremy are the closest I think.”

“Oh…” Jim began rethinking a LOT about the Holmes family– _I’d obviously failed to do my research_.

“Mummy is going to be utterly THRILLED if Mycroft actually Bonded.” Sherlock’s eyes lit up in malevolent glee, “Oooooh she’ll be sending him baby booties and doctor’s references for older Omegas in a matter of DAYS!”

“She will?”

Sherlock looked positively diabolic. “The INSTANT  we know that Mycroft and Sebastian Bonded I call Mummy.”

“Won’t she be upset?”

“You must be joking.  Mummy would tolerate it if whoever Bonded Mycroft  could simply stand up-right and not scratch himself in public, as long as he could give her a grandchild.”

Sherlock eventually noticed that Jim was being very quiet. “Is…is something wrong?”

Jim shook his head, “Just thinking.  So lie on the bed already.”

“Err…” Sherlock finally shrugged and lay down.

Jim looked at him all innocently and friendly, “So, Sherlock?”

“Yes?”

“I’m about to enjoy immensely reducing you to the same state I was in.” and then Jim smiled wickedly and he looked about as innocent as a cobra. Sherlock was about to protest when Jim ducked his head and…

_Ohmygodmoreofthatrightnowmoreshitiamsofucked_

Jim was having a very tough time giving a blowjob since it was REALLY hard to do that and laugh at the same time. Sherlock came positively unglued at the first swipe of tongue. Eventually Jim managed to get his amusement under control and started in earnest and Sherlock didn’t just melt… he all but dripped off the bed and oozed down to the basement.

Jim had to use most of his skills to KEEP Sherlock from coming, since apparently he was inclined to almost immediately– probably the combination of fear and interest; the man was an adrenaline junkie.  Jim wondered how long it would take to get him  calmed down about restraints enough to put him in handcuffs, because if this was his reaction to a bit of  nervousness he couldn’t wait to get him in a blindfold and cuffs.

All too soon he was just lying on Sherlock with his head on his chest, puzzling things out.

“That… was incredible.”

“Psht. That was nothing. Wait until you aren’t that worked up and I can really do something.”

Sherlock shut up. Jim looked up and saw him looking up at the ceiling with a sort of worried awed look and started giggling.

“Do I take it that your previous blow jobs don’t measure up?”

“They aren’t even using the same scale.”

Jim purred happily and curled into Sherlock more. “I tried to get you in bed before, but you weren’t interested.”

“When?! After you put John in a bomb vest? Or when you told me you had snipers–”

“When I gave you my phone number at the morgue, idiot!”

Sherlock shoved him over and sat up, “I would not, EVER, have participated in someone cheating on Molly!” Jim’s mouth dropped open. “I care– cared– for her far too much to do that to her, EVEN if the boyfriend was using her to pretend to be straight, and EVEN if she was only doing it to make me jealous.”

“THAT’S why?!”

“Obviously,” Sherlock snorted at him. “Besides, I was on a fascinating case at the time and was unlikely to have called anyone until it was over, but I CERTAINLY wasn’t calling a cheating, lying, boyfriend and hurting Molly!... doubly so since SHE had a crush on me.”

“Oh… by that point we’d both pretty well concluded you were just being mean to her, so I thought you would… you know, to spite her.”

Sherlock looked shocked. “Molly… Molly was someone I…” and then he started CRYING.  Jim had no idea what to do, none at all.

“Don’t… oh god please don’t cry… I don’t know what to do when people cry… for god’s sake STOP CRYING!” Jim finally screamed– which seemed at last to get through to him and he started just snuffling.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck…_ “Uh…ice cream? Blow job? Apple?” Jim asked frantically trying to think of what to do. _A murder maybe? Not fast enough… set something on fire? There was always the toaster…_

“My brother would just tell me to stop sniveling and remember that he told me so– people are awful and no one can be trusted. ‘Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock, they’ll just stab you in the back’.” He stared off at nothing, “and they did.”

“Molly… didn’t even know you cared. We both thought you DIDN’T… and she still… she still asked me not to kill you.” Jim admitted, “She said she thought Bonding might… help us both.”

“Lestrade works for my brother, you know.”

“Uh… what?”

“After I ran into him in a drug bust– and a murder– my brother hired him to keep an eye on me.  It’s why he lets me on cases, because Mycroft keeps his higher ups from  giving him trouble over it and he gets a few pounds a week extra.”

“Err… no, I didn’t know that.”

“I half wondered if Mycroft had hired you, you know.”

“WHAT?!”

Sherlock had curled up with his arms around his knees and looked remarkably young. “Who else would have access to everything?  But… the shoes… it didn’t make sense.  And the bomb vest was real, and that could have killed us all…. But if John was one of his agents on the scene to make sure… it would explain the cabby and you, and ….”

“Oh Jesus fucking Christ, Sherlock!” Jim shook him. “The bastard had me water boarded and electroshocked– not to mention punched, sleep deprived, and … I don’t even want to talk about it– I sure as FUCK don’t work for him. I already told you that if JOHN works for anyone at all other than you, I couldn’t see it, and I never bothered to ask about the cop.”

“How could Molly…”

“Because you treated her like SHIT and you never talked to her and I thought you didn’t care and might call me, why shouldn’t she?  Even so, she didn’t want you HURT… and fine, we both had shitty lives and no concept of relationships– it’s not like I can ask her for advice, not after all her abusive boyfriends!”

“It’s not like I have anyone to ask for advice.  My parents were horrified by the scandal with Victor– two Male Alphas?!– and Mycroft is… Mycroft.”

“Well… don’t… cry on me. I don’t know what to do.”

“Good to know.”

After a long and very awkward pause. “Look… uh... rather than find out what else in the kitchen is booby-trapped, we could order delivery.”

“Right…” Sherlock tried to smile, “Our nemesis Monsieur Four would undoubtedly have set explosives.”

Jim snickered. “Right, lets… at least try to get the broken glass cleaned up and get some decent food, and then I can point out that that was no more than a  three on the blow-job scale, and I usually don’t get into bed for less than a seven.”

 


	15. Suave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tango terminology (among other uses) Suave: smooth [soo-ah’-vay]  
> Smooth, steady and a very chic style. Considered a critical goal to attain in tango, particularly for the lead.   
> AKA Sebastian in a suit

Sebastian managed to come out of Rut enough to realize that his Omega needed to eat; luckily, his Omega–Mycroft–understood that and just followed him to the kitchen. Watching Mycroft purring over Chicken Alfredo made Sebastian feel almost as good as fucking him into screaming orgasms while declaring him to be beautiful and smart and deadly.

~

_Alpha–Sebastian–was better than ice cream. Alpha could cook. Alpha liked to watch him eat, and Alpha made sex feel better than anything, ever. Alpha petted him and called him smart and beautiful and deadly and he had the focus and patience of a sniper–even with sex. Alpha took him apart until he almost was a typical Omega, and he could stop thinking sometimes. It was wonderful._

~

Mycroft Holmes woke up feeling as though he had been worked over by torturers– _No, physical therapists: less damage, but still no ability to move._ He was in a bed that may have once been comfortable, but was now disgustingly sticky and the headboard was broken: _Alpha ripping the headboard in half while he rode him and came…_

Puzzle pieces started slotting into place rapidly: _Sebastian Moran; accidental Heat; Sherlock!; both of them alive; turning the fans…_

Mycroft tried to bolt from the bed and was effortlessly snagged by a very strong arm.

“What’s wrong, beautiful?” Alpha’s growling morning voice made Mycroft want to melt–and scream.

He’d been ridiculously stupid in Heat, his brain had been muck… he had to mimic it and run. “Shower?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s pretty ripe in here.” Sebastian stretched and ran his hand along Mycroft’s side and down his hip. “I’ll get coffee started and join you.”

Mycroft forced himself to walk to the shower without dragging a sheet around himself–the sheet was disgusting and smelled like both of them and sex–and collapsed shaking. _Oh dear God, I’m Bonded_ … He forced his mind to go over as much as he could.

 _Sherlock had been captured by Moriarty, who turned out to be an Omega like me. How had he MANAGED that, by God? He’d been in interrogation for weeks... How had Moriarty faked HIS death? How had Sherlock been captured? His agent, Moran–My Alpha! Mine!–must have placed the fake body, still been there…_ He remembered the injection and his phone falling from suddenly clumsy fingers.

Sebastian had taken him out of the cell and been kind–even though he hated him. Sebastian had called him smart, and dangerous, and… good looking? He’d had the suppressants…

_Why in the name of all that was Holy hadn’t I used the Heat suppressant on myself? Why?!_

But even sober and aware, Sebastian had been… nice. He’d worried about Mycroft– _It’s a TRICK! No one likes me_ –and he’d been worried about hurting him. _It’s… a TRICK… He wants to control you… wants the information and the power…_ He hissed at himself.

“Mycroft?! Are you alright? Did you fall?” and Alpha scooped him up off the floor of the shower and started checking him worriedly.

“F-fine!” Mycroft stammered, because a naked Sebastian was enough to derail his thought processes a bit even now. “I’m not hurt.”

“I don’t think you’ve eaten enough,” Sebastian said very worriedly, “and you might be dehydrated. Let’s get cleaned up and I’ll make some soup.”

Mycroft nodded, expecting to be left alone to clean up, and found out that Sebastian thought running soapy hands all over him was… _actually, it was very nice_ … Mycroft cursed himself for weakness but he leaned back into Sebastian and enjoyed it.

_It’s a TRICK! He works for Moriarty, for God’s sake!_

Sebastian toweled him dry and kissed the back of his neck, and licked at his Bond bite… _Mmmmm_ … Mycroft blinked a few times because somehow he was sitting in the kitchen watching Sebastian cook. _I’ve only just come out of Heat and my hormones must be all over the place. He licked… there… that’s what happened. Now run._

Sebastian put a bowl of soup down in front of him and a thick slice of warm bread liberally coated in butter: Mycroft stared at it. “That’s too much butter for me.”

“Mycroft,” Sebastian’s voice was gentle and careful, “you fell in the shower: you need to EAT.”

Sebastian came around behind him and started dipping bread into the soup and… _Oh, God, this was delicious…_

When Sebastian finished feeding him, he ate his own food quickly while holding Mycroft with one arm. “Come on, we’ll go back to bed and just sleep.”

“It’s FILTHY!” Mycroft protested.

“Hmm… Okay, yeah, it is… We’ll go sleep in my room. It’s small but it’s clean.”

“Your… room?”

“Yeah, I put you in Jim’s–don’t you remember?”

“Oh… right… that’s not your room, it just smells like…”

“Sex with an utterly brilliant and gorgeous Omega?” Sebastian said rubbing his nose into Mycroft’s hair.

“I’m not–”

“What did I say? No more putting yourself down, Mycroft! When I get my hands on whoever debriefed you and whoever it is that keeps putting you down… ” Sebastian was growling in a way that should be terrifying but somehow it seemed comforting.

Mycroft was steered along to a smaller and plainer bedroom–with clean sheets–and told to hold out his arm; when he did Sebastian carefully pinched it and frowned. “Yup, you’re still a little dehydrated.” He had a few bottles of electrolyte in the room and poured some into a glass for him while Sebastian drank one out of the bottle.

“Come on, let’s get a nap, and then we can find out what’s going on with your brother and Jim.”

Mycroft’s eyes widened. _Sherlock would have texted, but I wasn’t checking… I’ll sneak away once he goes to sleep._ Mycroft lay down next to Sebastian and Sebastian promptly curled around him. It was appallingly comfortable.

Sebastian was making a humming noise and stroking his hair, and _Oh dear GOD, that was nice, but it wouldn’t last…_

“You’re out of Heat,” Sebastian said calmly after a few minutes.

Mycroft twitched, thought about lying, and finally sagged, “The scent?”

“Wasn’t sure until I got you in here where the Heat scent isn’t all over, but I suspected for a while.”

“What gave it away?”

“Well first of all, you didn’t talk enough. You’re a regular chatterbox in Heat and suddenly you were monosyllabic.”

Mycroft hissed.

“Secondly, I had pretty well gotten it through to you not to try to starve yourself in front of me, and suddenly you were worried about too much butter…” Mycroft sagged further and Sebastian pulled him in close, “and finally, you didn’t take that opportunity to check your phone–and the only reason you hadn’t done so recently was we were a bit exhausted from sex.”

“So you’re well aware that I am not and will never be a typical Omega.” Mycroft tried to say it with some dignity. “And I assure you I am not going to give you access to any–”

Sebastian growled at him–Mycroft shut up instantly. “Mycroft, I do not want access to anything; I do not even LIKE your office or your job or anything about it; and if I could, I would take you away and keep you from setting foot in that damn building ever again; BUT, I know how much the safety of England depends on you–so, unfortunately, I have to let you go back to work. I’m still gonna skin your debrief people.”

“You… what?”

“Since I am OBVIOUSLY not going to kill you,” he sighed, “even though you deserve it for what you did to Jim, then you may as well go back to work once we find out what’s going on.”

“My brother was loose and Moriarty was a prisoner… ” Mycroft was still having some difficulties concentrating with his Alpha– _Sebastian, damn it_ –running his hand idly over his flank.

Sebastian shrugged, “This is Jim–who knows what happened? No one has shown up to arrest me yet, though.”

“Sherlock would have left that up to me…”

“Just for the record, Mycroft, if you plan on having me arrested? Don’t. I’ll just end up taking down a lot of the officers before I get killed. Like I said, I have a bit of an allergy to locked cells myself.” And Sebastian kissed the back of his neck and slung himself out of bed, “I’ll get the phones.”

Mycroft saw his back for the first time without the Heat haze just making everything sexy. _Whip marks–he has whip marks on his back–and he was a prisoner–hates cell doors–he said he would have been dead in another week without Moriarty getting him out. No, trying to capture him alive would never be easy, even if I wanted to. The preference for death over capture would certainly serve Moriarty’s interests_. The realization hit him hard and suddenly _: I’m BONDED. What in ever-living HELL will that do to my security clearances?_ And then: _An awful lot of people will want Sebastian shot…_

Sebastian came in with the phones. He was staring down at his own phone and casually tossed Mycroft’s to him. “Looks… survivable: better than I expected, anyway.”

Mycroft checked his messages and stared. “They’re talking? What the devil does he mean by that? Lousy childhood? What?”

“You mean Jim? Well, yes.” Sebastian lay back down next to him and started stroking over his side again. “He didn’t come from a noble family–from what he said, he didn’t know he could be an Omega until the first time he went into Heat.” Sebastian looked wistful, “God, I wanted him… Ah, well, he would have killed me.”

“Of course you didn’t want me–” A warning growl from his Alpha and he shut up again: it seemed to be reflex.

“I didn’t want you, Mycroft, but then I also hadn’t MET you: you were just the Alpha bastard who tortured Jim. He started going into Heat within days of getting out of your cells: that’s how I found out. I’d been certain he was a Beta, and still… ” Sebastian looked wistful, “He’s brilliant.”

“Why… didn’t you two…?”

“He told me in no uncertain terms that if I so much as set foot into the cell while he was in Heat he would kill me slowly when he came out of it.” Sebastian shrugged. “It was hard listening to him suffer, but it didn’t sound like him anymore.” He looked thoughtfully at Mycroft and then pulled him in for a deep and incredibly filthy kiss. “You stay you–it’s kind of strange, but I like it.”

“I thought you didn’t like me because of what I did to Moriarty.”

“I HATE what you did to Jim,” Sebastian said calmly, “but I found out a lot more about you, and I guess what they say is true about understanding someone: you’ll either be unable to hate them or you’ll hate them worse.” He glared down at Mycroft, “And before you start in on your ‘no one likes me’ routine: I do NOT hate you. Yes, I’m still upset about Jim–no, I don’t hate you.”

Mycroft had opened his mouth to say something and shut it with a click when Sebastian beat him to it. “WHY?” he finally managed to get out. “No one likes me! MOST people despise me. Hell, even Sherlock barely puts up with me on good days!”

“Um… Mycroft, has it occurred to you that a baby brother has enough trouble listening to an older brother WITHOUT him being an Omega?”

Mycroft frowned, “What?”

“Alpha instincts are going to say he should be taking care of and protecting YOU, not the other way around: it has to grate. Add in the fact that you really do have a nearly obsessive need for control and…” Sebastian pantomimed explosions with his hands. “I mean, that’s not even counting the fact that Sherlock seemed to be the pushy sort.”

“Pushy… That’s… putting it mildly.” Mycroft thought about it, “No, I never thought about the Alpha/Omega issues.”

“Well, no time like the present, eh? Get dressed and we’ll go find out what level of hell we’re getting dragged into.”

Mycroft’s eyes widened suddenly, “What did you do with my CLOTHES?!”

“Aired them out, gave them a good brushing, and hung them up. Why?”

Mycroft blinked up at him, “Oh. I was afraid they’d been left tossed in a corner.”

Sebastian laughed, “My uncle goes to Huntsman and my father has an account with Gieves & Hawkes: I favor Anderson & Sheppard when I wear bespoke–I know how to take care of a suit; besides, the military wouldn’t tolerate tossing your dress uniform in a corner and does teach you to use a clothing brush and steamer if you don’t already know.” He shrugged. “Jim found it handy–apparently some earlier bodyguard messed up one of his jackets.”

“I shudder to ask what happened to him.”

“Well, Jim made comments, but he says a lot just to yank people’s chains; he probably just never let the guy touch one of his suits again.” Sebastian shrugged again. He opened his wardrobe and frowned. “Well, we’re going to see Jim, but… ” he glanced over at Mycroft still sitting nude on the bed, “You’ll be in your suit, so wearing my casuals would stand out next to you–bodyguard suit, you think?”

“You’re asking me?”

“Yes.”

“If you have a suit that would look like something my driver or aide would wear… ” Sebastian pulled a suit that looked EXACTLY like something a government aide would wear. “Er… Yes, that would be nicely unobtrusive.”

Mycroft watched him getting dressed–and yes, the suit was tailored for the shoulder holster–with a degree of interest in his loins.

Sebastian grinned, “Oh Lord, don’t tell me you have a suit kink.”

Mycroft cleared his throat, “You wear it well.” He watched the man tie a perfect half-Windsor and his throat went a bit dry.

Sebastian grinned at him, walked over, and dropped to his knees.

“What?” Mycroft’s eyes widened at Sebastian took him into his mouth. “You’ll… your suit… Oh… Oh GOD…”

Sebastian pulled his mouth off long enough to look up and say, “Then I’ll just not have to let any of the mess get on my suit, right?” and then went back to making Mycroft’s brain turn off.

When Mycroft finally came back down, Sebastian was simply dabbing at his–insanely sexy–mouth with a handkerchief as though he’d had a bit of chocolate, not just utterly undone Mycroft Holmes.

“Let’s get you dressed, then.” Sebastian got up and brushed off his knees. “We need to find out what our two lunatics have been up to.”


	16. Corte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corte — Cut: In tango, corte means cutting the music either by syncopating, or by holding for several beats  
> in other words: an interruption.

Part of Mycroft kept hissing at him to _Run! Shoot Sebastian–Alpha!_ or otherwise panic, but every time he twitched too much Sebastian just ran the back of his knuckles down Mycroft’s neck, or patted his leg, and somehow it didn’t seem as important. They drove for quite a while before pulling up in a nondescript industrial area.

Sebastian typed the codes into the discreet but terribly good security system and let them into the building. _Distribution center for heating and cooling supplies?_ They went through a door that said “Authorized Personnel Only” and into a room that said “Cash Counting” and then through another secured door and down below ground level.

“Mycroft, assuming Jim didn’t already know I was on the way down, the door will make noise when I key in the codes: one of those lunatics might shoot at one of us, so I suggest we stay close together and hope Sherlock doesn’t want to hit you and Jim doesn’t want to hit me.”

“I don’t suppose you have tranquilizer gas?”

“No–besides, Jim’s allergic.”

Mycroft remembered why they hadn’t gotten any use out of the drugs when Moriarty had been interrogated: _life-threatening allergies to a wide range of drugs…_ “Oh, yes, of course.”

Sebastian growled in the back of his throat and Mycroft found himself baring his neck. Sebastian pulled him in close as he entered the codes with one hand.

They walked in and as soon as they rounded the corner into the sitting area they both froze. Shattered glass had been haphazardly swept into a pile, but shards of it glittered here and there in the rug, furniture smashed… Both of them started sniffing: rot and burnt food.

“God! What?!” Sebastian was frozen, looking around in horror. “Jim… Oh, God, Jim had one of his manic attacks?”

“What?” Mycroft whispered.

“Jim… he gets… he goes manic sometimes, and then crashes into utter depression…”

Suddenly Mycroft put the information together and moaned, “I’m an idiot; I should have seen it.”

“Seen what?” Sebastian hissed as he slowly moved them through the flat.

“Suppressant use. Long-term suppressant use can do that, it’s why… it’s why the stronger suppressants were banned. It’s why I let myself go through pseudo heats every three months…”

They both stopped talking as the kitchen came into view: a scorched toaster sat on the counter, and the trash overflowed with take-out containers and paper plates. Sebastian held up a hand and cocked his head. Mycroft realized he was listening to the sound of… _television? And what sounded like Moriarty and Sherlock arguing through a door._

They both moved slowly to a door with sound pouring from it and a smell… _Indian food?_

Sebastian appeared to recognize the program. “Oh, God… It’s Glee,” he said weakly. “I guess that means they’re alright?”

Sebastian slowly pushed the door open to see Sherlock in nothing but a dressing gown and Moriarty in boxer shorts and an undershirt arguing vehemently and wrestling over the television control.

“It’s OBVIOUS!” Sherlock snarled.

“I DON’T CARE!” Moriarty snarled back. “We’re going to watch every damn minute of it!”

“Boss…” Sebastian groaned.

“Sherlock,” Mycroft sighed.

The two men on the bed looked over at them in shock.

*

Sherlock and Jim had been watching Glee. They were watching Glee because they both hated it. That might sound like an odd reason to watch a program, but it was better to sit together and curse at the show than it was to find out the other man had HORRIBLE taste in entertainment.

Well, Sherlock hated most shows, so they probably could have found something else to hate together, but Molly liked it and they were determined to figure out why.

They were arguing about skipping to the end–by agreement, they had to get to the point of snarling and risking their popcorn before they would give in and skip forward–when the door opened.

“Boss…” Sebastian’s resigned groan snapped Jim right out of Glee. He looked over in shock to see his sniper and Mycroft-bloody-fucking-Holmes standing there looking… _Actually, they both looked sort of put upon._

“Sherlock,” Mycroft sighed in that “What do I have to clean up now?” tone that set Sherlock’s teeth on edge. Then he realized he’d ACTUALLY heard it, not just in his head and looked over. Mycroft was standing– _healthy; a bit dehydrated at worst; no sign of pain_ –next to a very dangerous, fit, competent-looking Alpha…

“Errr… Mycroft?” Sherlock’s eyes flickered between the two of them. “Are you alright?”

“Sebastian?” Jim was watching them both suspiciously and edging toward a weapon.

“Bloody Hell, Jim! Can’t you take out the trash? And all that glass–did you have to wreck the mirror?” Sebastian sounded exasperated and tired, but otherwise alright.

“I suspect the mayhem in the living room was Sherlock, in fact–many of those broken items are a bit heavy…” Mycroft sounded resigned, “but you could have at least thrown out the trash and the food waste, Sherlock.”

Sherlock suddenly realized Jim was edging for a gun and dove on him. Since this struggle was real–and not over a television remote–Sherlock used his superior strength and it was over quickly.

“No shooting my brother!” Sherlock snapped as he hauled him back away from the weapon.

“So… you two AREN’T Bonded?” Sebastian asked dubiously.

Mycroft just shook his head, “No, they aren’t.”

Sherlock had Jim’s arms behind his back and was wrestling him to a more or less sitting position on the bed. “We were discussing things.”

Jim struggled briefly, then stared at Sebastian and went limp.

“Sir?” Sebastian was looking back and forth at the two of them and getting highly uneasy. “Sherlock, let him go…”

“Can we move this out of the bedroom?” Mycroft winced and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think this is a good place for discussion.”

…

They were all sitting around the toaster as if it was a bizarre floral arrangement–not talking.

Every now and then, one of them would open their mouths to say something and everyone else would look at that person and then they would shut up again.

Mycroft finally decided to be the sacrificial victim, “So, apparently you have some rather impressive suppressants,” he said staring pointedly at the toaster, wondering what in hell they did to the poor thing.

“Yours must be pretty good–I had no idea,” Jim grumbled, “but I wasn’t expecting to be held for that long.”

They lapsed back into silence.

After a painful number of minutes, Sebastian asked, “Sir… what happened to the toaster?”

Sherlock answered without looking up from his tea, “Toaster pastries are apparently quite flammable.”

Jim suddenly snickered, “It was a fiendish assassination plot–that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.” Sherlock snickered back and they bumped shoulders.

Mycroft stared at the two of them and then looked at Sebastian who just shrugged.

“So NOW what?” Sebastian finally asked.

“I have no idea,” Mycroft sighed. “I’ll likely lose my position, and people will probably try to kill you…”

Jim frowned, “No one kills Sebie but me.”

“I love you too, sir,” Sebastian said in a sarcastic tone, but… it did sound a bit affectionate.

Jim sniffed, “You have terrible taste, Sebie.”

Sebastian suddenly narrowed his eyes at Jim and growled. Jim recoiled backwards into Sherlock in shock and Sherlock wrapped his arm around him and growled back at Sebastian.

Mycroft groaned, “Children, please…”

“Enough people keep putting Mycroft down without you doing it!” Sebastian snapped.

“Who the hell puts the Iceman down?!” Jim snarled back.

“EVERYBODY, apparently! God damn idiot debriefers, acting like being an Omega is an excuse for anything! And I LIKE tall!”

Mycroft put a hand over his face and groaned. This was horribly embarrassing–even if he liked hearing Sebastian say that.

Jim tilted his head, “What? Sebie, you are making no sense…”

Sherlock poked him in the ribs. “I did mention that you apparently internalized the same exact idiot idea that consent is irrelevant.”

Mycroft looked up and frowned, “What?”

Sherlock sighed, “Jim was also apparently taught that an Omega has automatically consented if there is an Alpha, or if they are in Heat–even if they are drugged into it.”

“WHAT?!” Sebastian pulled himself up to his full height and roared. In the next second, Jim was on him with a knife. Mycroft jumped on Jim and hauled him back–and bit him–and Sherlock dove into Sebastian’s legs.

Jim was shrieking, Sebastian was snarling, Mycroft was holding onto Jim and cursing vehemently in multiple languages, Sherlock was snarling back at Sebastian…

And suddenly they were all four of them soaking wet.

They looked up very slowly to find a poised and professional woman with a fire extinguisher aimed at them.

“Gentlemen,” Anthea said politely, as if she had just interrupted tea instead of hitting nearly feral Alphas and Omegas with a fire extinguisher. “I apologize for cutting your vacation short, sir,” she said very calmly to Mycroft, “but Lady Smallwood is becoming increasingly irate.”

Everyone else was just staring at her, but Mycroft blinked twice and held out his hand: she handed him a small computer pad and a Bluetooth earpiece.

Mycroft set up the call and said, “Lady Smallwood? Anthea informs me that you were rather insistent; what seems to be the problem?” He listened for a short period of time and then said, “I see. I will be back in the office tomorrow, but I will begin dealing with it remotely.” He handed the earpiece and pad back.

Sebastian was frowning at her while Mycroft was on the phone: she was ignoring all of them and texting steadily on her blackberry.

Once Mycroft had handed the items back, Sebastian growled, “Are you one of these idiots who keeps putting Mycroft down?”

Mycroft sighed, “No, certainly not. This is Anthea, my PA.”

She looked up curiously at Sebastian. “This is, sir?”

“My… Alpha. Sebastian.”

She raised an eyebrow and looked him over with more intent. “Hmm. Good choice, sir.”

Mycroft smiled faintly, “I thought so.”

Sherlock sighed, “Hello, Alphabetical.”

“Nuisance,” she nodded politely. “Delightful as always.”

“This is Jim.”

“I had rather thought so.” She looked back at Mycroft, “Since I had to package up the Heat suppressant to be delivered here, do I assume that our files need to be updated?”

“Do it and you are a dead woman,” Jim growled.

Mycroft cleared his throat, “Not… at the moment.”

She nodded regally, “Shall I be telling your mother to prepare one or two Bonding announcements?”

Mycroft recoiled against Sebastian and whined; Sherlock moaned and sagged into a chair.

“What?” Jim looked at the two of them.

“Uh, yeah, what?” Sebastian tried to pet Mycroft reflexively: it didn’t seem to help.

Anthea tilted her head at them, “Ah. You are not informed, I see.”

“My mind was elsewhere,” Mycroft admitted.

“Mister Holmes, as an Omega, cannot hold a position of such authority without his Alpha’s permission.”

“I’M his Alpha!” Sebastian narrowed his eyes at her. “He wasn’t bonded.”

“In the absence of a Bondmate, my Alpha is a responsible family member,” Mycroft pointed out.

Jim and Sebastian looked at Sherlock, and then Jim said, “Well, he’s out–he’s surprisingly responsible, but you constantly shove him around so… who is it?”

Sherlock and Mycroft sighed in unison, “Mummy.”


	17. Bridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bridge is a contrasting section that prepares for the return of the original material section
> 
> a short "Bridge" chapter to clear a few things up, and prepare for the next sequence.
> 
> sadly un beta'd as my husband is very ill.

“Your Mummy is an Alpha?” Jim looked perplexed, “Odd to call them your… wait, Female Alpha?” Jim blinked a lot. “That’s rare…”

“Exceedingly.” Mycroft sighed. “It inhibited her from pursuing her career goals, which she could certainly have done as a Male Alpha.”

“In any event,” Anthea smiled politely, “Mrs. Holmes has stated that she wishes to meet both of your new partners as soon as possible.”

Mycroft backed up a step into Sebastian, “I need to deal with–” he waved at the pad and the earpiece.

“I will have Mrs. Holmes talk to Lady Smallwood.” Anthea nodded, “Do try to get this cleared up quickly.”

“We’re not even Bonded!” Sherlock protested, and looked like he might try to hide BEHIND Jim.

“I will inform her, but you know how Mummy is: I suggest you start packing for the trip.”

“Can’t you delay it, Alphabet? I’m dead after all…” Sherlock sounded rather forlorn at this point.

Anthea looked up. “Nuisance, I love you like the brother I never had, but I am NOT crossing Mummy!”

“You can’t ask her that, Sherlock; you know what Mummy gets like.” Mycroft sighed, “Mummy has… a classic Alpha temper, and we are her children...”

Jim shrugged, “no idea what that means.”

Sebastian frowned, “An Alpha is supposed to be– and I stress the ‘supposed to be’– the protector of their family.  It’s not unknown for fights to happen between an Alpha mate and an Alpha parent as they work things out.” Sebastian raised an eyebrow at Anthea as he pulled Mycroft in to his side, “I do NOT approve of how Mycroft was raised.”

“Take it up with Mummy, and good luck.” Anthea said with a smirk. “I’m a Beta, and I am often reminded of how glad I am of it!”

Jim sighed, “Well, the time lock hasn’t opened yet.  Sebastian I need your phone.”

Sebastian handed the phone over without hesitation. Jim started texting rapidly– Mycroft looked concerned and glanced at Sherlock who shrugged.

After Jim wandered out of the area– still texting– Sebastian asked Sherlock, “Okay, why aren’t you bonded again?”

“First of all, I object, strongly, to being kidnapped and forced.” Sherlock narrowed his eyes at Sebastian.

“I did protest the idea,” Sebastian sighed. “But I owe the little maniac my life and sanity. Once he gets his mind really set on something…”

Anthea looked up. “Mummy has reluctantly agreed to delay you coming out until the day after tomorrow– time to deal with Lady Smallwood’s issue– but quote, ‘if you aren’t here by lunch  time I will come after you and drag you back by the scruff of your neck!’.”

Sherlock winced. “Again…” he muttered.

“Mummy must be in a bad mood.” Mycroft said quietly.

“I suspect the death announcements, the condolence visits, and so on have indeed soured her mood, sir.” Anthea said blandly. “Also you should call her, both of you, to assure her you are well–  she only takes my assurance just so far.”

Sherlock sighed, “I need to call John.”

Mycroft nodded, “I shall try to get this matter with Lady Smallwood dealt with.”  And he set himself at the counter, after a brief puzzled look at the toaster again, and started working.

Sebastian looked around slowly, “I’d offer you something but they appear to have destroyed the kitchen. “ he looked back at the woman, “and I am quite serious, I strongly object  to the abuse, and lack of respect, that Mycroft has been subjected to.”

Anthea raised an eyebrow at him, “Didn’t you kidnap him?”

“Not by plan, he caught me before I could get off the roof– then I was assuming that he would be a nice present for Jim after he recovered. I had no idea he was an Omega until the sedatives sent him into Heat.” He frowned, “And I was trying to keep him safely away from me, but he apparently picks locks.”

“Ah…” she nodded, “I had heard that.”

“HE pursued me, not the other way around– although in fairness he hit all my weak spots: tall, intelligent, competent… and still needed an Alpha.”

“I’m surprised you and Jim never–”

“Jim threatened to castrate me if I came near him that way… and he doesn’t let himself go into Heat…”

Anthea frowned, “That’s terrible for his health!”

“So Mycroft said.”

Anthea poked dubiously at the debris and trash, “I can’t say I approve of their housekeeping.”

“Jim doesn’t really cook, but he is normally insanely neat,  obsessively so,” Sebastian sighed, “but I doubt that he was as coherent as Mycroft in Heat and I never got the impression Sherlock was neat…”

Anthea almost choked to death, “no… not at all… no… God knows he needs a wife.  I actually was kind of hoping he’d pair up with that nice Beta Watson, because I couldn’t imagine an Omega being able to… you know… manage him?”

Sebastian looked off in the direction Jim had gone with his phone, “well… under normal conditions… Jim managed everything… except when he gets those manic highs or the depressive crashes…” he paused for a bit longer, “Mycroft said that was probably the suppressant use.”

“Probably. They were never meant for long term–”

Sherlock came slinking into the room, “Did you bring a change of clothes, Alphabetical?”

“Yes.  Your bag is near the door, the mess rather dissuaded–” Sherlock walked out before she finished. “I’m guessing Watson gave him hell…” she  sighed.

“He’s got a pretty good excuse– being kidnapped.”

“About that… Mummy is NOT happy about how this happened.”

“Given how awfully everyone seems to treat Mycroft; I don’t care.” Sebastian frowned at her, “He’s been horribly mistreated.”

“I tend to agree with you,” Anthea nodded, “and most of it was his school and work, but I will remind you that no matter how… traditional… Mummy is in most ways, she DID permit Mycroft to take this job instead of marrying him off or keeping him home.”

Sebastian set about trying to find uncontaminated cups for tea and fussing at Mycroft.

Anthea smiled faintly and went back to texting– this one going to Mummy: Mycroft found himself a good one, if you ask me… all kinds of sweet and growling about how badly Mycroft’s been treated.

We shall see. Your impression of Moriarty?

God help us all.  Neither of them should be trusted in a kitchen and they were snarling and wrestling over the TV remote watching Glee together.

Anthea paused: my advice? Put in a lot of tea and scotch, and lock up the breakables.

My dear that’s par for the course of welcoming a new Alpha into the family.

Not for him, for the Omega.

Anthea could almost picture Mummy pinching the bridge of her nose before replying with: … only Sherlock…

Anthea grinned and went back to business.


End file.
